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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT 


From  the  Library  of 

Henry  Goldman,    Ph.D. 

1886-1972 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2007  witli  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcli  ive.org/details/donaluzvaleraOOvaleiala 


DONA    LUZ. 


WHAT  THE  PBESB  SAYS  ABOUT 

PEPITA    XIMENEZ. 


W.  D.  HowELLS,  in  ITarper^s  Magazine,  eays  : 

"  What  is  it  that  delights  us  in  this  very  'Pepita  Ximenez,' 
this  exquis-ite  masterpiece  of  Sefior  Valera'e  ?  Not  merely 
that  a  certain  Luis  de  Vargas,  dedicated  to  the  priesthood, 
finds  a  certain  '  I'epita  Ximenez  '  lovelier  than  the  priesthood, 
and  abandons  all  his  sacerdotal  hopes  and  ambitions,  all  his 
poetic  dreams  of  renunciation  and  devotion,  to  marry  her. 
That  is  very  i  retty  and  very  true,  and  it  pleases  ;  but  what 
chiefly  appeals  to  the  heart  is  the  assertion,  however  delicately 
and  adroitly  implied,  that  their  right  to  each  other  through 
their  love  was  far  above  his  vocation." 

The  Nation  says  : 

"  '  One  of  the  jewels  of  literary  Spain '  is  what  a  Spanish 
critic  has  pronounced  the  most  popular  l)ook  of  recent  years  in 
that  language,  Don  Juan  Valera's  novel '  Pepita  Ximenez.' " 

The  St.  Lmils  Republic  says  : 

"Valera  is  a  smooth,  graceful  writer,  and  his  'Pepita' 
must  excite  a  great  deal  of  attention." 

The  Boston  Transcript  says  : 

"...  A  very  striking  and  powerful  novel." 

The  Evening  Telegram  says  : 

"  A  remarkable  good  story  is  '  Pepita  Ximenez.'  .  .  .  The 
novel  is  to  be  strongly  recommended." 

Ttie  Sun  (New  York)  says  : 

"  There  is  a  new  source  of  pleasure  to  novel-readers  of 
discriminating  taste  in  the  work  of  Sefior  Juan  Valera.  .  .  ." 

The  Clitic  says ; 

"  It  is  a  very  entertaining  and,  moreover,  a  very  artistic 
piece  of  work,  full  of  quaint  and  delicate  humor  and  of 
shrewd  insight  into  varied  human  character." 

Tlu  Baltimore  Sun  says  : 

"  It  is  the  best  novel  that  a  Spanish  author  has  given  us." 


D  O  N"  A      L  U  Z 


BY 


JUAN    YALERA 

▲UTHOB  OF  FKPITA  XIMKNKZ 


TRANSLATED   BY 

MARY  J.  SERRANO 


NEW  YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1891 


Authorized  edllion. 

Copyright,  1891, 
By  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANT. 


stack 
Annex 

bS73 


VALERA  AND  DOKA  LUZ. 

WILLIAM  DEAN  HOWELLS  IN  HARPER'S  MAGAZINE. 
[Reprinted  by  pennission  of  Harper  &  Brothers.] 

The  fascination  of  Dofia  Luz  and  her  history  is 
that  of  a  most  tender  and  tragic  beauty.  .  .  ,  We 
hardly  know  any  figure  in  fiction  more  lovely  and 
affecting  than  Dofia  Luz.  .  .  .  All  her  traits  are 
studied  with  a  minute  and  respectful  compassion, 
which  leaves  the  reader  a  fast  friend  of  the  author, 
and,  as  it  were,  her  intimate  acquaintance.  It  is  a 
character  which  makes  that  of  Pepita  seem  slight 
and  narrow  by  comparison  with  a  certain  noble  depth 
of  feeling  in  it,  and  all  the  tones  of  the  picture 
are  graver.  Like  the  story  of  Pepita,  it  presents  a 
small  group  of  persons,  but  each  of  these  is  strongly 
realized,  and  is  made  the  exponent  of  local  conditions 
in  which  the  reader  seems  to  live.  It  is  all  very  fine 
and  masterly  work,  scarcely  to  be  matched  in  the  con- 
temporary fiction  of  our  language,  if  that  is  not  put- 
ting the  case  too  faintly. 

Seflor  Valera,  who,  as  the  reader  may  know,  has 
been  the  minister  of  Spain  in  this  country  for  several 
years  past,  and  has  now  left  us  for  a  diplomatic  post 


4.  VALERA  AND  DONA  LUZ. 

in  Europe,  is  one  of  those  many-sided  publicists  of 
southern  Europe,  beside  whom  our  own  politicians  do 
not  seem  so  gigantic  as  we  like  to  think  them  when 
the  other  party  is  not  running  them  for  office.  He 
has  passed  his  life,  we  believe,  in  the  public  service, 
yet  he  has  not  only  found  time  to  write  the  two  novels 
we  have  mentioned,  but  four  or  five  others,  as  well  as 
a  treatise  on  the  Poetry  and  Art  of  the  Arabs  in  Spain 
and  Sicily,  a  volume  of  Critical  Studies,  a  volume  of 
Literary  Judgments  and  Dissertations,  another  of 
Poems,  and  another  of  Dramas.  We  can  not  attempt 
to  ascertain  his  standing  as  an  author  in  Spain  ;  that 
is  a  thing  for  the  Spaniards  to  do,  but  no  reader  of 
his  books,  even  at  second-hand  and  in  translation,  can 
fail  to  perceive  in  them  a  very  great  talent.  "Whatever 
his  theories  of  literary  art  may  be,  about  the  creation 
of  the  beautiful  and  all  that,  he  works  primarily,  as 
all  the  great  talents  work  now,  in  the  interest  of  what 
is  true,  and  with  a  poetic  fidelity  to  facts  and  condi- 
tions. In  this  way  the  fiction  of  our  time,  such  of  it 
as  is  worth  reading,  is  constituting  itself,  as  never 
before,  the  interpreter  of  history ;  so  that  hereafter 
public  events  can  be  accurately  read  in  its  light,  and 
whoever  would  know  what  this  or  that  people  were,  at 
the  time  they  made  such  and  such  laws  and  wars  and 
treaties,  may  learn  their  intimate  life  from  the  report 
of  their  novels. 


CONTENTS. 


Valera  and  DoSa  Luz 


I.— The  Marquis  and  his  Steward  .        .        .        . 
II. — Some    Tiresome    but    Indispensable    Explana- 
tions     

III. — Concerning  other  Details  which  the  Consci- 
entious Scruples  of  the  Narrator  will  not 

PERMIT  him  to  pass  OVER  IN  SiLENCE 

IV. — The  Intimate  Friends  of  Do5fA  Luz 
V. — The  Friendship  of  DoSa  Manolita 
VI. — The  Confidences  op  DoSa  Luz 
VII. — Father  Enrique    . 
VIII. — Father   Enrique's   Manner   of 

Town 

IX. — Homily 

X. — An  Illustrious  Candidate  . 
XI. — Preparations  for  the  Election 
XIL— The  Triumph  .... 

XIII.— Crisis 

XIV. — The  Solution  of  the  Crisis 


Life    in 


the 


PAOK 

3 


17 


36 
35 

48 
63 
73 

79 
91 
107 
136 
141 
158 
172 


6  CONTENTS. 

XV.— First  Sketch  of  a  Matrimonial  Idyl     .       .  187 

XVI. — Meditations .  200 

XVII.— The  Wedding 215 

XVIII. — A  Glorious  Translation    .....  224 

XIX. — Don  Gregorio's  Mission 244 

XX. — The  Mysterious  Letter 263 

Conclusion 276 


D055^A   LUZ. 


I. 

THE  MARQUIS  AND   HIS  STEWARD. 

ViLLABERMEJA  is  Dot  of  necessity  to  be  the  scene 
of  all  my  stories.  The  events  I  am  now  going  to  re- 
late— events  of  a  very  interesting  nature — took  place 
not  many  years  ago  in  a  town  not  far  distant  from 
Villabermeja  and  which  I  shall  call  Villafria,  keeping 
its  real  name  for  a  more  important  occasion.  And 
then  between  Villabermeja  and  Villafria  the  differ- 
ence is  but  slight ;  for  if  it  be  true  that  Villabermeja 
possesses  a  patron  saint  of  more  miraculous  power, 
Villafria,  on  the  other  hand,  enjoys  a  wider  extent  of 
territory,  has  a  larger  population,  finer  houses,  and 
wealthier  land  owners. 

Prominent  among  these  latter  was  the  Sefior  Don 
Acisclo,  so  called  since  he  had  attained  his  forty-fifth 
year,  befor?  which  time  he  had  been  called  "  Acisclillo  " 
up  to  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  and  afterward  "  Uncle 
Acisclo."  The  title  "  Don  "  had  come  later,  and  was 
prefixed  to  the  "  Acisclo  "  in  consequence  of  the  in- 


8  D05fA  LUZ. 

creased  dignity  and  importance  imparted  to  the  good 
man  by  the  wealth  which  by  honest  industry  he  had 
succeeded  in  acquiring. 

The  favorable  reputation  which  he  enjoyed  ex- 
tended throughout  the  entire  province.  He  was  es- 
teemed, not  only  as  a  "  warm  "  man,  and  one  who,  in 
case  of  necessity,  could  lay  his  hand  upon  two  or  three 
millions  of  reals,  but  he  was  also  extolled  as  a  man 
of  parts,  upright  in  all  his  dealings  and  firm  as  a  stone 
wall ;  and  so  conscientious,  so  exemplary  in  his  devo- 
tions to  the  Virgin  and  so  full  of  the  fear  of  the  Lord, 
that  he  fell  little  short  of  being  a  saint,  notwithstand- 
ing all  that  malicious  tongues — which,  indeed,  for  that 
matter,  are  never  idle — might  say  to  the  contrary. 

The  truth  is  that  Don  Acisclo  had  known  how  to 
reconcile  self-interest  with  probity  and  justice.  He 
had  acted  as  the  steward  of  the  Marquis  of  Villafria 
for  at  least  twenty  years,  and  he  had  managed  matters 
in  such  a  way  that  the  possessions  of  the  marquisate 
had  passed,  little  by  little,  from  the  hands  of  their 
owner  into  his  own  more  industrious  and  careful 
hands. 

This  transmission  had  taken  place  in  an  altogether 
natural  and  legitimate  manner.  Don  Acisclo  was  in 
no  wise  to  blame  because  the  marquis  was  extravagant 
and  dissipated,  and  far  from  being  imputed  to  him  as 
a  fault  it  was  rather  to  be  esteemed  as  a  merit  that  he 
himself  had  been  intelligent,  economical,  and  shrewd. 


THE  MARQUIS  AND  HIS  STEWARD.  9 

He  had  always  acted  with  the  utmost  loyalty  in  his 
management  of  the  estate.  The  Marquis  of  Villafria 
lived  in  Madrid,  where  he  was  obliged  to  spend  a  great 
deal.  He  had  need  of  money,  for  which  he  sent  to 
Don  Acisclo.  There  was  none.  And  then  various 
methods  of  raising  funds  were  had  recourse  to,  some 
of  which  methods  I  will  briefly  mention. 

The  marquis,  let  us  say,  required  two  thousand 
dollars,  and  sent  orders  to  Don  Acisclo  to  sell  wine 
enough  to  raise  that  amount,  even  if  he  should  be 
obliged,  in  order  to  do  so,  to  sell  it  at  a  loss — selling 
wine  already  fit  for  use,  for  instance,  at  the  same  price 
as  new  wine. 

Don  Acisclo  had  a  very  tender  and  scrupulous  con- 
science, and  assiduously  sought  a  purchaser  for  the 
wine,  who  would  take  it  at  its  just  value,  but  without 
success.  He  could  find  no  one  who  would  give  more 
than  six  or  seven  reals  an  arroha,  less  than  the  wine 
was  worth.  Then  Don  Acisclo  made  a  sacrifice,  raised 
the  money,  sent  it  to  the  marquis,  and  himself  took 
the  wine  at  the  rate  of  a  peseta*  in  the  arroba  less 
than  its  value.  In  this  way  he  made  a  profit  in  the 
'transaction  himself,  besides  causing  the  marquis  to 
gain  at  least  three  reals  in  the  arroba.  Then  Don 
Acisclo  would  put  the  wine  into  casks,  and  at  the  end 
of  a  year  it  was  of  so  exquisite  a  quality  that  he  sold 

*  A  Spanish  coin  worth  about  twenty  cents. 


10  DOSfA  LUZ. 

it  for  seven  or  eight  pesetas  an  arroha  more  than  it 
had  cost  him. 

Again,  the  marquis  would  send  in  all  haste  for  a 
thousand  dollars  for  some  pressing  exigency. 

"  Borrow  the  money  from  some  merchant  in 
Malaga,"  he  would  write  to  Don  Acisclo,  "  promising 
to  pay  it  back  in  oil  in  two  months'  time  when  the 
olive  crop  has  been  gathered." 

Don  Acisclo  immediately  looked  about  for  some 
merchant  in  Malaga  who  would  consent  to  advance 
the  money,  but  could  find  no  one  willing  to  give  it 
except  on  condition  of  receiving  payment  in  oil,  in  the 
time  mentioned,  at  the  rate  of  two  reals  an  arroha 
less  than  the  current  price  of  that  article.  This  was 
monstrous  usury — usury  at  the  rate  of  thirty  per  cent 
per  annum.  Don  Acisclo  was  in  despair,  made  a 
great  outcry,  fell  ill  through  the  grief  caused  him  by 
the  marquis's  difficulties,  and  finally  resolved  again  to 
make  a  sacrifice,  taking  the  oil  himself  at  a  real  less 
than  its  current  price,  and  advancing  the  money  on 
which  he  gained  an  interest  of  only  twenty  per  cent  per 
annum.  In  this  way  he  caused  the  marquis  to  gain 
ten  per  cent  more. 

The  same  thing  happened  with  the  wheat.  The 
marquis  sent  him  orders  to  sell  the  crop  of  wheat  two 
or  three  months  before  harvest  time.  No  one  was  to 
be  found  who  would  pay  more  for  it,  buying  it  in  this 
way,  than  three  reals  a  bushel  less  than  it  was  worth. 


THE  MARQUIS  AND  HIS  STEWARD.  H 

Then  Don  Acisclo  himself  advanced  the  money, 
taking  the  wheat  at  the  rate  of  two  reals  less  than 
its  value,  but  making  the  marquis,  on  his  side,  gain 
a  real  in  every  bushel. 

The  marquis  liked  to  keep  a  team  of  eight  fine 
mules,  which  would  have  eaten  a  fortune  in  barley, 
without  being  employed  in  the  service  of  the  marquis 
more  than  four  months,  at  the  most,  in  the  year ;  but 
Don  Acisclo  used  the  mules  for  carriage  and  for 
traffic,  and  in  this  way  he  himself  saved  the  hire  of 
mules  and  a  muleteer,  and  caused  the  marquis  to  save 
more  than  six  months'  feed  in  every  year. 

The  lands  of  the  marquis  greatly  needed  manur- 
ing. Don  Acisclo  bought,  on  his  own  account,  large 
numbers  of  sheep  and  goats,  which,  in  exchange  for 
some  useless  and  perhaps  noxious  herbs  and  a  few 
low-growing  wild  shoots,  manured  abundantly  the 
finest  of  the  olive  plantations  of  the  marquis. 

The  marquis  needed  more  money.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  borrow  it ;  no  one  could  be  found  who  would 
lend  it  at  less  than  fifteen  per  cent  interest.  Don 
Acisclo  discovered  some  relation  or  friend  of  his  own 
who  consented  to  lend  it  at  twelve  per  cent.  In  this 
way  he  made  the  marquis  gain  three  per  cent  per 
annum  on  the  amount  borrowed. 

Finally,  in  the  way  I  have  shown,  rendering  exact 
accounts  meanwhile  and  demonstrating  mathemati- 
cally that  he  caused  the  marquis  to  gain  three  or  four 


12  DOSfA  LUZ. 

thousand  dollars  a  year  by  his  faithful  and  zealous 
management  of  his  estates,  Don  Acisclo  came  into 
possession  of  nearly  all  of  them. 

The  marquis,  compelled  by  necessity,  then  left 
Madrid  and  went  to  live  quietly  in  Villafria,  where 
he  died  a  year  later  of  a  malignant  fever,  the  result 
of  a  deficiency  of  the  precious  metals  and  an  excess  of 
bile. 

The  entire  possessions  of  the  marquis  at  the  time 
of  his  death  produced,  at  the  most,  a  rent  of  sixteen 
thousand  reals  a  year. 

Taught  by  past  experience,  I  shall  leave  it  to  the 
learned  critics  to  decide  whether  the  marquis  was  a 
fool  or  a  wise  man. 

In  Madrid  the  marquis  had  been  an  ornament  to 
society  and  was  regarded  as  wisdom  itself,  notwith- 
standing which  he  had  remained  all  his  life  poor. 
Perhaps  this  is  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that 
there  are  two  kinds  of  folly — folly  of  action  and  folly 
of  speech — which  every  human  being  has  received  in 
inverse  proportion.  The  man  who  does  not  talk  fool- 
ishly acts  foolishly ;  the  man  who  does  not  act  foolish- 
ly talks  foolishly.  When  any  one  habitually  both 
talks  and  acts  foolishly  he  is  a  blockhead,  and  enjoys 
possession  of  folly,  total,  absolute,  and  complete,  as 
the  pliilosophers  would  say. 

Fortunately,  this  is  not  the  rule ;  what  is  gener- 
ally the  case  is  to  be  foolish  by  halves.     The  man  who 


THE  MARQUIS  AND  HIS  STEWARD.  13 

expends  his  wisdom  in  words  charms  all  who  listen 
to  him,  and  is  the  delight  of  every  social  gathering  at 
which  he  is  present ;  but,  having  expended  this  wis- 
dom on  objects  of  luxury,  as  it  were,  only  folly  is  left 
for  the  things  that  ought  to  be  of  most  importance  to 
him.  And,  contrariwise,  all — or  almost  all — those 
who  expend  their  wisdom  in  the  conduct  of  their  af- 
fairs are  insufferably  dull  and  stupid  in  other  matters 
while  they  are  thus  engaged,  though,  when  the  busi- 
ness in  hand  is  concluded,  they  may  again  shine  in 
society,  either  because,  having  no  longer  any  need  to 
employ  it  in  the  useful,  they  employ  their  wisdom  in 
the  agreeable,  or  from  the  prestige  lent  them  by  suc- 
cess. 

I  account  to  myself  in  this  way  for  the  fact  that 
the  marquis — may  he  rest  in  peace ! — was  regarded  as 
a  wise  man  in  Madrid,  and,  by  his  fellow-townsmen, 
as  a  consummate  fool. 

And  his  fellow-townsmen  had  good  reason  for  so 
regarding  him,  my  readers  will  say.  If  the  marquis 
had  not  been  a  fool  he  would  have  known  that  Don 
Acisclo  was  robbing  him,  and  would  have  employed 
another  steward.  In  answer  to  this  reflection,  I  can 
only  say  what  the  marquis  himself  said  when  a  simi- 
lar observation  was  made  to  him,  as  was  not  seldom 
the  case.  It  is  not  my  purpose  here  to  prove  that  the 
marquis  was  in  the  right ;  I  only  repeat  what  he  said. 
He  said,  then,  that  for  twenty  leagues  around  Villa- 


14  DOSfA  Luz.; 

f ria  there  was  not  to  be  found  a  more  upright  or  hon- 
orable man  than  his  steward ;  that  the  boast  Don 
Acisclo  made  of  having  saved  his  master  four  thou- 
sand dollars  every  year  was  strictly  in  accordance 
with  the  truth,  and  that  consequently  he  was  still  in 
his  steward's  debt,  for  the  twenty  years  during  which 
he  had  managed  his  estate,  to  the  amount  of  some- 
thing more  than  eighty  thousand  dollars.  Any  other 
steward  would  have  accomplished  the  ruin  of  the 
marquis  in  ten  years'  time.  The  marquis  conse- 
quently believed  himself  indebted  to  Don  Acisclo  for 
ten  years  of  comfortable  and  pleasant  existence.  No 
other  steward  would  have  advanced  money  at  one 
half  the  rate  of  interest  which  any  one  else  would 
have  demanded ;  would  have  enriched  himself  sooner, 
and  would  not  have  ruined  his  master  with  so  much 
consideration,  so  much  delicacy  and  deliberateness, 
and  in  so  scrupulously  conscientious  a  manner.  Don 
Acisclo  himself  believed  in  his  heart,  although  he 
rarely  made  a  boast  of  the  fact,  owing  to  his  excessive 
modesty,  that  he  had  been  a  model  of  servitors  to  the 
marquis.  Thus  it  was  that  during  the  year  spent  by 
the  marquis  in  Villafria  after  his  ruin  Don  Acisclo 
preached  him  many  a  sermon  on  his  extravagance 
and  improvidence,  to  which  the  marquis  always  list- 
ened with  respect  and  at  times  even  with  com- 
punction. 

By  these  tardy  counsels  and  sermons,  by  the  re- 


THE  MARQUIS  AND  HIS  STEWARD.  15 

spectful  friendship  which  he  professed  for  the  mar- 
quis— a  friendship  even  more  devoted  after  the  ruin 
of  the  latter  than  it  had  been  before — and  by  the  at- 
tentions with  which  he  surrounded  him  in  his  last 
days,  without  being  influenced  in  the  slightest  in  all 
this  by  any  feeling  of  remorse  (for,  far  from  think- 
ing he  had  injured  his  master,  he  believed  he  had 
served  him)  Don  Acisclo  raised  himself  greatly,  both 
morally  and  intellectually,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
marquis,  who  confided  to  him  at  his  death  the  most 
precious  jewel  he  possessed  in  the  world. 

This  jewel  was  a  daughter  who,  at  the  time  of  the 
marquis's  death,  had  just  completed  her  fifteenth  year. 
She  had  been  educated  by  an  English  governess, 
whom  it  had  been  found  necessary  to  dismiss  for 
pecuniary  reasons  before  coming  to  Villafria  ;  but  the 
young  girl  already  spoke  French  and  English  with 
perfection,  and  was  well  versed  in  many  other  branches 
of  knowledge. 

In  the  town  she  was  beloved  by  everybody,  espe- 
cially by  the  poor,  although,  being  poor  herself,  she 
could  aid  them  but  little. 

When  two  years  old  she  had  lost  her  mother,  whom 
she  had  never  known  but  whom  she  understood  to  be 
of  obscure  birth,  and  the  death  of  the  marquis  now 
left  her  alone  in  the  world.  Her  father,  who  had 
never  married,  had  legitimated  her  and  given  her  his 
name. 


16  DOSfA  LUZ. 

Don  Acisclo  was  very  desirous,  after  the  death  of 
the  marquis,  of  taking  the  necessary  steps,  advancing 
such  sums  as  might  be  required,  to  obtain  the  trans- 
mission of  her  father's  title  to  the  young  girl,  but  the 
latter,  when  he  communicated  to  her  his  intention, 
opposed  it  in  the  most  decided  manner.  Although 
so  young  she  was  judicious  enough  to  perceive,  and 
this  she  said  to  Don  Acisclo,  that  it  would  be  even 
ridiculous  to  assume  the  title  of  marchioness  with 
the  slender  fortune  she  possessed.  Don  Acisclo  urged 
the  point,  but  she  opposed  his  desire  more  vehemently 
than  before.  She  remained,  then,  without  a  title. 
The  towns-people  ceased  to  call  her  the  "  little  mar- 
chioness," as  they  had  done  during  her  father's  life- 
time, and  called  her  instead  "  Dofla  Luz — Luz  being 
her  baptismal  name. 

While  Dofla  Luz,  like  a  good  daughter,  mourned 
her  father  sincerely,  she  yet  gave  proof  of  much 
Christian  resignation  in  the  midst  of  her  grief. 

As  years  passed  she  grew  tranquil  and  contented  ; 
she  was  conscious  of  her  sad  position  in  the  world, 
but  she  did  not  torment  herself  on  that  account.  It 
seemed  as  if  she  had  forgotten  Madrid.  She  had  re- 
signed herself  to  spending  the  remainder  of  her  days 
in  Villafria. 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  17 

IL 

SOME  TIKESOME  BUT  INDISPEKSABLE  EXPLANATIONS. 

Twelve  years  had  passed  since  the  death  of  the 
marquis. 

Dofla  Luz  was  now  twenty- seven  years  of  age,  and 
was  singularly  beautiful — much  more  beautiful  than 
she  had  been  at  fifteen. 

Her  disposition,  naturally  good  and  rightly  di- 
rected during  her  childhood  and  youth  by  the  teach- 
ings of  her  governess,  had  not  changed  with  years. 
Dofla  Luz,  without  sybaritism,  with  the  conscientious 
regard  paid  to  the  performance  of  a  duty,  had  always 
given  much  time  and  attention,  and  continued  doing 
so  since  her  arrival  in  Villafria,  to  the  care  of  her 
mind  and  person. 

With  the  same  vigilance  which  she  exercised  in 
keeping  her  heart  and  mind  free  from  unworthy 
thoughts  and  feelings,  she  attended  to  the  material 
purity  and  the  modest  adornment  of  her  person. 
Dofla  Luz  was  in  all  things  the  personification  of 
pulchritude. 

Perhaps  instinctively  and  unconsciously,  or  at  least 
without  allowing  it  to  be  perceived  or  suspected,  she 
paid  more  attention  to  and  took  more  pleasure  in 
what  we  may  call  moral  and  personal  cleanliness  from 
the  fact  that  she  was  surrounded  by  persons  some- 


18  DOSfA  LUZ. 

what  rude  in  their  natures  and  by  no  means  remark- 
able for  their  cleanliness,  either  of  mind  or  body,  and 
feared  lest  she  should  be  contaminated  by  them. 

She  was  so  discreet  that  she  never  allowed  this 
fear  to  be  suspected,  and  so  artlessly  tactful  that  no 
one  ever  accused  her  of  pride.  Although  she  never 
lowered  herself  to  the  level  of  others,  by  a  sweet, 
frank,  and  generous  sympathy  she  tried  to  raise  oth- 
ers to  her  level.  In  this  way  she  had  succeeded  in 
inspiring  respect  instead  of  hatred,  and  the  ladies, 
young  and  old,  of  the  town,  instead  of  making  her  a 
target  for  their  malicious  remarks,  chose  her  as  their 
model,  whereby  the  customs,  manners,  and  social 
usages  of  the  place  had  greatly  benefited. 

The  young  men  now  treated  the  women  with 
greater  deference  than  before,  and  some  of  the  latter 
copied,  not  without  ingenuity,  the  manners  and  dress 
of  Dofla  Luz,  and  even  the  style  and  arrangement  of 
the  furniture  and  ornaments  of  her  dressing-room, 
parlor,  and  bedroom,  which  gave  evidence  of  the  most 
exquisite  taste. 

At  the  time  at  which  my  story  opens  Dofla  Luz 
was  in  the  zenith  of  her  beauty.  Graceful  and  slen- 
der, her  figure  was  possessed  of  all  the  roundness 
of  form,  robustness,  and  dignity  compatible  with 
aristocratic  distinction  and  youthful  grace.  Health 
bloomed  on  her  fresh  and  rosy  cheeks,  peace  reigned 
on  her  smooth  and  candid  brow,  crowned  with  sunny 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  19 

curls,  a  tranquil  spirit  shone  in  the  depths  of  her 
blue  eyes,  whose  naturally  proud  expression  was  soft- 
ened by  the  calm  reflection  of  charitable  and  pious 
feeling. 

An  early  riser,  active  by  nature,  and  accustomed 
to  take  long  walks  and  to  busy  herself  when  in  the 
house  in  some  useful  task,  her  physical  agility  and 
vigor  were  no  less  admirable  than  her  beauty  and 
grace.  When  she  wished  she  could  dance  like  a 
sylph ;  in  her  walk  she  was  like  the  divine  huntress 
of  Delos ;  and  she  rode  like  the  queen  of  the  Ama- 
zons. 

She  occasionally  attended  the  balls,  parties,  and 
other  entertainments  given  in  the  town.  She  often 
went  to  the  fairs  in  the  neighboring  towns  and  vil- 
lages and  sometimes  joined  in  a  pilgrimage,  and  while 
she  did  not  shun  intercourse  with  the  towns-people, 
she  behaved  with  so  much  discretion  and  just  deco- 
rum, that  she  succeeded  in  avoiding  familiarity  with" 
any  without  offending  the  sensitive  or  encouraging 
the  audacious  and  presuming. 

This  discretion,  instead  of  injuring,  added  to  and 
extended  the  favorable  reputation  she  enjoyed  in  the 
town. 

When  Dofla  Luz,  accompanied  by  her  old  servant 
Juana,  went  walking,  or  passed  through  the  streets  on 
her  way  to  church,  composed  and  serious  in  manner, 
dressed  entirely  in  black  and  wearing  the  lasquina 


20  i>o5fA  Luz; 

and  mantilla,  some  young  students  of  the  town,  more 
learned  in  the  laws  of  aesthetics  and  other  matters 
pertaining  to  love  and  poetry  than  their  fellow-towns- 
people, would  say  of  her  that  she  was  like  a  stately 
heron ;  an  empress  ;  a  heroine  of  romance  or  of  some 
fantastic  legend ;  a  strange  and  wonderful  being ;  the 
fairy  Parabanu  ;  the  most  beautiful  of  the  houris. 

Notwithstanding  the  respect  they  entertained  for 
her,  they  were  not  always  able  to  restrain  the  expres- 
sion of  their  admiration.  "  Viva  el  salero ! "  one 
would  cry ;  another,  "  Praised  be  God,  who  has  cre- 
ated so  much  loveliness ! "  a  third,  "  There  goes 
Beauty's  self !  "  and  so  on.  And  on  occasion  some  of 
them  would  go  so  far  as  to  spread  their  well-wom 
cloaks  on  the  ground  before  her  for  a  carpet,  or  to 
throw  at  her  feet  their  Calafles  hats,  in  order  that  she 
might  tread  upon  them. 

But  strange  to  say,  notwithstanding  this  enthusi- 
astic admiration,  Dofla  Luz  neither  had  nor  had  ever 
had  an  acknowledged  lover ;  she  neither  conversed 
nor  had  ever  conversed  with  any  one  at  her  window. 
What  she  had  had,  however,  was  a  multitude  of  ad- 
mirers, to  none  of  whom  she  had  ever  given  any  en- 
couragement. The  richest  young  men  of  the  country 
for  some  leagues  around  had  come  to  look  upon  her 
as  an  impregnable  fortress.  Hope,  however,  never 
abandons  us  completely.  In  the  matter  of  conquests 
men  are  apt — for  the  most  part — to  imagine  that  they 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  21 

will  in  the  end  prove  successful.  So  that  if  the  young 
men  of  the  place  were  now  undeceived  and  had  de- 
sisted from  their  pretensions  there  were  not  wanting 
strangers — provided  they  were  persons  of  a  certain 
rank — who  went  into  ecstasies  of  admiration  at  sight 
of  Dofia  Luz,  and  resolved  in  their  own  minds  to  suc- 
ceed where  every  one  else  had  failed ;  but  these,  also, 
were  in  their  turn  soon  undeceived. 

This  persistent  adoration,  this  eager  desire  to  win 
the  love  of  Dofla  Luz  had  been  cherished  in  turn  by 
many.  None  of  them  had  arrived  at  a  declaration, 
however.  Dofia  Luz  knew  how  to  comport  herself  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  prevent  her  ever  finding  herself 
in  the  harsh  necessity  of  giving  a  formal  refusal  and 
drawing  on  herself  the  enmity  which  such  a  refusal 
would  occasion.  It  was  difficult  to  speak  alone  with 
her.  It  was  difficult  to  cause  a  note  or  a  love  letter 
to  reach  her.  And  although — thanks  to  some  push- 
ing old  woman  or  other,  such  as  are  never  found 
wanting  in  these  cases — Dofla  Luz  had  received  com- 
munications both  in  prose  and  verse,  she  had  always 
returned  these  communications  unopened.  In  view  of 
these  and  other  manifestations  of  coldness,  all  her 
lovers  had  at  last  desisted  from  their  pretensions  with- 
out ever  having  received  motive,  or  even  a  pretext,  for 
complaint. 

Nor  could  there  be  motive  for  such  complaint. 
Dofia  Luz  never  gave  any  reason  which  could  offend 


22  DOSfA  LUZ. 

for  not  wishing  to  marry.  She  felt  no  inclination  for 
marriage.  She  was  not  in  love.  No  one  can  com- 
mand his  feelings.  Such  were  the  reasons  she 
gave. 

The  invincible  repugnance  caused  her  by  all  that 
was  vulgar  and  plebeian,  and  the  horror  that  took  pos- 
session of  her  at  the  thought  of  the  possibility  of  her 
one  day  having  a  child  who  should  bear  her  illustri- 
ous name  united  to  the  obscure  and  rustic  appellation 
of  some  rich  country  clown  might  indeed  be  sus- 
pected, but  this  suspicion  found  no  justification  either 
in  her  words  or  acts. 

To  sum  up,  if  Dofla  Luz  entertained  no  hope  of 
marrying  according  to  her  inclinations,  neither,  on  the 
other  hand,  did  she  entertain  or  give  ground  for  the 
suspicion  that  she  entertained  the  slightest  desire  of 
doing  so.  Her  manner  revealed  only  tranquil  cold- 
ness and  gentle  contentment.  The  most  cynical  of 
men  would  have  tried  in  vain  to  discover  in  her  acts, 
words,  or  looks  the  slightest  indication  of  disappoint- 
ment, 

Nor  was  she  in  reality  disappointed.  She  had 
chosen  her  part  with  decision,  and  had  traced  out  be- 
forehand her  path  in  life.  The  satirical  expression 
"  old  maid  "  had  produced  no  effect  on  her  steadfast 
and  courageous  soul,  nor  could  it  either  force  or  in- 
duce her  to  accept  a  husband  merely  in  order  to  avoid 
incurring  this  reproach.  - 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  23 

Various  ladies,  rich  relations  of  Dofia  Luz  resid- 
ing in  Seville  and  Madrid,  had  invited  her  to  take 
up  her  abode  with  them  ;  but  whether  such  were 
really  the  case,  or  whether  she  only  suspected  it  to 
be  so,  Dofia  Luz  looked  upon  these  invitations  as 
being  given  rather  through  compliment  than  from 
the  heart.  Besides,  she  regarded  herself  as  poor  for 
her  station,  and  she  was  unwilling  to  be  a  burden 
upon  any  one,  or  to  live  at  the  cost  of  any  one  in 
a  sort  of  dependence  but  little  removed  from  servi- 
tude. She  had,  consequently,  refused  all  these  invi- 
tations. Her  intention  was  to  live  and  die  in  ob- 
scurity in  Villafria. 

The  stain  resting  on  her  birth,  the  humble  con- 
dition of  her  unknown  mother,  reacted  upon  her 
feelings,  converting  her  pride  into  something  that 
was  almost  haughtiness.  To  efface  that  original  stain 
Dofia  Luz  desired  to  be  all  the  purer  and  freer  from 
stain. 

She  desired  neither  to  ask  favors  from,  nor  to 
be  dependent  upon  any  one. 

She  still  kept  possession  of  her  ancestral  house 
in  Villafria,  with  all  its  furniture,  and  retained  in 
her  service  two  of  the  former  servants  of  the  family. 
Although  she  did  not  now  reside  in  it,  it  was  her 
intention  to  do  so  at  a  future  time — when  Don  Acis- 
clo  should  be  no  more  or  when  she  should  be  old 
enough  to  live  alone  without  causing  comment. 


24  D05fA  LUZ. 

Meantime,  Dofia  Luz  lived  in  Don  Acisclo's  house, 
a  spacious  habitation,  in  which  she  had  her  separate 
apartments,  and  to  which  she  had  caused  to  be  re- 
moved her  richest  and  handsomest  articles  of  furni- 
ture and  her  favorite  books. 

In  payment  of  this  hospitality  she  obliged  Don 
Acisclo  to  accept,  notwithstanding  his  protestations, 
more  than  one  half  of  her  income — that  is  to  say, 
eight  thousand  reals  a  year.  With  the  remainder, 
as  she  was  prudent  and  economical,  she  was  able  to 
dress  herself,  to  buy  books,  and  to  help  the  poor. 

Her  only  luxury,  her  one  extravagance,  was  a 
magnificent  black  horse,  on  which  she  took  long 
rides,  accompanied  by  Don  Acisclo  or  by  Tomds,  a 
servant  who  had  grown  old  in  her  father's  service. 

Don  Acisclo  had  been  for  many  years  a  widower. 
He  had  two  sons  and  three  daughters,  all  married 
and  living  in  their  own  houses,  so  that  in  the  soli- 
tude of  that  immense  house  Dofla  Luz  and  Don 
Acisclo  served  each  other  for  company. 

Don  Acisclo  was  now  nearing  his  seventieth  year, 
but  he  was  strong  and  healthy.  He  held  himself 
erect  as  a  young  poplar,  he  was  thin,  and  active  in 
his  movements,  and  although  his  learning  was  con- 
fined to  a  passable  knowledge  of  reading  and  writing 
and  of  the  four  rules  of  arithmetic,  and  although 
he  had  never  read  a  book  through  in  his  life  he 
had  a  great  deal  of  natural  ability  of  a  practical 


SOME  EXPLANATIONS.  25 

kind.  He  had  never  troubled  his  conscience  with 
moral  subtleties.  Therefore  it  was  that,  as  I  have 
said,  he  felt  no  remorse  for  having  contributed  to 
the  ruin  of  the  marquis.  If  he  had  profited  by  it 
he  thought  it  better  that  he  should  have  done  so 
than  any  one  else.  It  would  have  grieved  him 
greatly  to  see  his  master's  wealth  in  the  hands  of  a 
stranger.  He  enjoyed  it,  consequently,  without  any 
scruples  of  conscience,  as  if  it  belonged  to  him  by 
right,  and  even  with  and  through  a  certain  senti- 
ment of  veneration  for  the  memory  of  its  deceased 
illustrious  possessor. 

This  sentiment  of  veneration  extended  to,  or  rath- 
er became  intensified  and  reached  its  height,  without 
affectation  or  servility  in  the  case  of  Dofia  Luz,  who, 
fascinated  as  he  was  by  the  spell  she  exercised  over 
him,  was  for  the  old  man  a  being  M'hose  secret 
thoughts,  motives,  and  springs  of  action  he  could 
only  faintly  comprehend,  a  creature  strange  and  un- 
common and  of  a  different  order  from  himself,  but 
with  whom,  nevertheless,  he  sat  at  table  daily  and 
who  did  him  the  honor  to  share  his  habitation. 


26      '  DOSfA  LUZ. 


III. 


CONCERN^ING  OTHER  DETAILS  WHICH  THE  CONSCI- 
ENTIOUS SCRUPLES  OF  THE  NARRATOR  WILL  NOT 
PERMIT  HIM  TO   PASS   OVER  IN   SILENCE. 

This  habitation  consisted,  like  that  of  many  other 
rich  proprietors  of  Andalusia,  of  two  adjoining  houses 
communicating  with  each  other  —  the  house  of  the 
master  and  another  which  is  always  called  the  "  coun- 
try house,"  although  it  may  be  situated  in  the  center 
of  the  town. 

The  master's  house  had  no  other  inhabitants  than 
Don  Acisclo  at  one  extreme,  and  Dofla  Luz,  with 
her  old  servant  Juana,  who  slept  in  a  room  adjoining 
that  of  her  mistress,  at  the  other. 

There  was  a  large  dining-room,  a  smaller  dining- 
room  for  ordinary  use,  and  various  drawing-rooms  of 
state,  which  were  opened  only  on  ceremonious  occa- 
sions, and  which  were  adorned,  along  with  other  pre- 
cious objects,  by  the  portraits  of  Don  Acisclo,  his  sons 
and  daughters,  his  sons-in-law  and  daughters-in-law, 
painted  in  oil,  larger  than  life  and  almost  full  figure, 
by  an  intinerant  artist  who  had  had  the  happy  in- 
spiration of  passing  through  Villafria,  and  who  had 
charged  an  ounce  in  gold  for  each  of  the  portraits. 
Don  Acisclo,  it  is  true,  had  heaped  attentions  upon 


CONCERNING  OTHER  DETAILS.  27 

him,  treating  him  like  a  king  and  seating  him  at  his 
own  table  during  the  whole  time  spent  in  painting 
the  portraits,  which  extended  over  five  months,  and 
presenting  him  at  his  departure  with  innumerable 
trifles,  such  as  a  small  keg  of  double-distilled  anisette, 
a  quantity  of  dried  fruit,  and  some  almond  and  pine- 
nut  paste.  And  the  portraits  were  well  worthy  of  it 
all  from  the  likeness  they  bore  to  the  originals.  There 
was  nothing  wanting  but  that  they  should  speak.  The 
lace  adorning  the  dresses  of  the  ladies  was  at  first, 
it  is  true,  a  little  indistinct ;  but  in  response  to  the 
complaints  of  the  said  ladies  the  artist  had  arranged 
the  matter  by  means  of  an  ingenious  device.  He 
moistened  a  piece  of  net  with  white  paint,  laid  it  over 
that  part  of  the  picture  which  represented  the  lace, 
when  this  was  dry,  and  the  effect  was  marvelous,  for 
the  lace  was  now  so  distinct  that  each  separate  hole 
in  it  could  be  counted. 

All  these  apartments  were  on  the  main  floor, 
where  were  two  fire-places,  such  as  in  that  part  of  the 
country  are  called  French,  and  which  were  lighted 
only  in  the  depth  of  winter  when  the  bishop  visited 
the  town ;  and  on  these  occasions,  indeed,  his  rever- 
ence came  very  near  being  suffocated  with  the  smoke 
sent  forth  by  them.  But  in  exchange  there  was  a 
magnificent  family  kitchen  with  a  bell-shaped  chim- 
ney which  had  a  splendid  draught,  where  during  the 
cold  season  burned  constantly  olive  and  oak  logs  and 


28  DOSfA  LUZ, 

rich  orujo  paste,*  which  was  seldom  used  for  cooking, 
and  where  the  members  of  the  family  warmed  them- 
selves very  comfortably.  The  walls  of  this  kitchen 
were  adorned  with  various  cages  containing  partridges 
standing  on  shelves,  guns  and  other  weapons,  and 
heads  of  stags,  wolves,  foxes,  badgers,  and  martens 
which  had  been  killed  by  Don  Acisclo. 

On  the  ground  floor  there  was  almost  as  much 
space  as  on  the  main  floor,  and,  indeed,  counting  the 
yard  covered  with  awning,  there  was  more.  There 
the  family  lived  during  tlie  summer.  There  at  every 
season  Don  Acisclo  had  his  office,  where  he  carried 
on  his  dealings  with  hucksters,  agents,  shepherds, 
farmers,  overseers,  and  landlords,  meaning  by  land- 
lords not  the  terror  of  the  tardy  tenants  of  Madrid, 
but  the  care-takers  of  the  lodging  houses  which  are 
erected  on  every  rural  estate. 

On  the  ground  floor,  too,  in  the  principal  apart- 
ment, which,  from  its  shape,  was  called  the  "square," 
there  was  an  object  which  conferred  additional  splen- 
dor on  the  house.  It  must  be  known  that  in  not  a 
few  of  the  towns  and  villages  of  Andalusia  there  are 
a  number  of  images  and  saints  which  are  carried  in 
procession  at  the  great  religious  festivals,  and  es- 
pecially during  Holy  Week.  The  number  of  these 
images  is  so  large  that  frequently  there  is  not  room 

*  The  skins  and  seeds  of  the  grapes  after  the  juice  has  been 
expressed. 


CONCERNING  OTHER  DETAILS.  29 

enough  for  them  all  in  the  churches,  for  which  reason 
many  of  them  are  deposited  in  private  houses,  remain- 
ing there  permanently,  with  the  exception  of  the  one 
particular  day  of  the  year  in  which  they  are  carried 
in  procession.  Don  Acisclo  had  one  of  these  images, 
a  representation  of  the  patron  of  the  brotherhood  to 
which  he  belonged,  in  the  "  square  "  on  the  ground 
floor;  but  this  was  not  one  of  those  insignificant 
images  which  are  to  be  had  for  almost  nothing ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  was  one  of  the  most  complicated  char- 
acter and  the  most  elaborate  and  costly  workmanship 
which  it  was  possible  to  find,  although  it  did  not,  in- 
deed, bear  out  the  saying — 

Santirulitos,  bonitos,  baratos, 

Ni  comeii,  ni  beben,  ni  gastan  zapatos.* 

For  this  image  or  representation  ate  and  drank, 
or  rather  supped ;  it  was  nothing  less  than  the  Last 
Supper.  Christ  and  the  twelve  apostles,  life-size,  were 
represented  seated  at  the  table,  Christ  pronouncing 
the  blessing,  St.  John  sleeping  and  leaning  his  head 
on  the  shoulder  of  his  divine  Master,  and  the  repul- 
sive and  treacherous  Judas,  with  unkempt  red  hair, 
putting  his  hand  in  the  dish  in  the  center,  for,  as  is 
well-known,  he  had  not  a  vestige  of  good-breeding. 

On  Holy  Thursday  the  "  Supper  "  was  carried  in 
procession,  having,  on  the  preceding  evening,  been 

*  Little  saints,  pretty  and  cheap. 
They  neither  eat,  nor  drink,  nor  wear  out  shoes. 


30  D05fA  LUZ. 

exposed  in  the  "square"  for  the  adoration  of  the 
faithful,  who,  with  this  object,  had  free  entrance  to 
the  house — a  ceremony  which  was  then  and  is  still 
called  "  to  visit  the  insignia,"  and  there  was  scarcely 
a  single  inhabitant  of  the  town,  not  to  speak  of 
strangers,  who  did  not  visit  them  on  the  eve  of  the 
procession. 

The  table  at  which  Christ  and  the  apostles  were 
seated  was  large,  and,  on  these  solemn  occasions,  was 
covered  with  a  fine  German  damask  table-cloth,  and 
adorned  with  a  profusion  of  beautiful  flowers,  meats, 
sweet  dishes,  and  fruits.  Although  there  was  not  on 
the  table  "a  specimen  of  everything  that  God  cre- 
ated," as  the  country  people  in  their  extravagant  en- 
thusiasm declared,  it  was  undeniable  that  there  were 
on  it  many  rare  and  costly  objects — kid's-heart  grapes, 
fresh  as  if  they  had  been  just  gathered,  or  had  been 
preserved  by  a  miracle;  large  clusters  of  carnations 
and  early  sweet-scented  roses ;  bunches  of  violets  and 
camellias,  etc.  The  walls  of  the  apartment  in  which 
was  the  "  Supper"  were  hung  with  crimson  damask ; 
on  the  damask  were  fastened  beautiful  antique  cor- 
nucopias in  which  were  set  lighted  wax  candles ;  and 
there  were,  besides,  in  the  apartment,  growing  plants, 
and  canaries  in  cages,  and  an  enormous  black  wooden 
cross,  with  ornaments  and  edges  of  fine  silver,  at- 
tached to  the  wall  by  fine  hooks.  This  was  the  cross 
which  Don  Acisclo,  when  he  was  a  young  man,  had 


CONCERNING  OTHER  DETAILS.  31 

for  many  successive  years  carried  on  his  shoulder  in 
the  processions,  for  he  had  been  and  was  still  a 
Brother  of  the  Cross,  although  he  was  now  superan- 
nuated, and  he  still  dressed  himself  as  a  Nazarene 
and  walked  in  the  procession  before  the  "  Supper,"  as 
a  brother  of  the  order,  wearing  a  rich  purple  silk 
tunic  which  had  cost  a  fortune.  On  those  occasions, 
however,  he  did  not  carry  the  cross,  but  a  shining 
pole — a  symbol  of  authority  and  command.  His  eld- 
est son  walked  before  him,  bearing  the  standard  of 
the  brotherhood. 

The  sum  spent  by  Don  Acisclo  on  the  festival  was 
large,  for  he  defrayed  the  cost  of  the  huge  wax  can- 
dles carried  by  those  who  followed  his  insignia ;  and 
on  the  evening  of  Holy  Thursday,  when  the  proces- 
sion was  over,  he  gave  a  supper  to  the  members  of  the 
fraternitj^,  who  were  numerous,  placing  before  them 
an  abundance  of  bean  pottage,  spiced  cornucopias, 
tope  with  garlic  sauce,  codfish  dressed  with  tomatoes 
or  made  into  balls,  and  sometimes  even  fried  sera- 
pJiim,  for,  strange  as  it  may  sound,  anchovies  are  in 
that  part  of  the  country  called  serajjJiim ;  and,  for 
dessert,  delicious  fritters  and  old  wine.  He  rewarded 
liberally,  besides,  the  forty  or  fifty  porters  who  carried 
on  their  shoulders  the  platform  on  which  was  placed 
the  table  with  Christ  and  the  apostles  and  "every- 
thing   that    God   created " — a    titanic    undertaking, 

which    left  many  of  the  bearers  with  sprains  and 
3 


32  D05?A  LUZ. 

frightful  blisters,  notwithstanding  the  cushions  they 
used  to  protect  the  flesh. 

On  that  night  Don  Acisclo  scattered  about  with 
open  hands  the  contents  of  the  larder.  The  common 
people  smoked,  at  his  cost,  the  best  cigars  to  be  had 
at  the  tobacconist's,  and  the  people  of  quality  drank 
chocolate  and  ate  pancakes,  tarts,  and  sweet  cakes  of 
various  kinds,  such  as  oil  cakes  and  rusks  made  of 
wine  and  egg.  Always,  and  on  every  occasion,  Don 
Acisclo  showed  himself  in  all  things  generous  and 
opulent. 

The  court-yard  of  the  house  Avas  large  and  was 
paved  with  marble.  In  the  middle  was  a  marble 
basin  into  which  fell  a  shower  of  clear  water  from  a 
tall  jet  rising  in  its  center.  Surrounding  the  fountain 
were  many  pots  of  flowers  and  sweet-scented  herbs, 
and  around  these  again  were  flower  beds  bordered 
with  box  cut  in  the  shape  of  spheres  and  pyramids, 
and  climbing  rose  bushes,  jasmines,  and  orange  trees 
which  grew  against  the  walls,  running  along  the  bal- 
conies of  the  principal  story,  weaving  a  mantle  of 
flowers,  fruits,  and  verdure,  and  embalming  the  air 
with  the  perfume  of  orange  blossoms,  mingled  with 
the  delicate  odor  of  the  jasmine  and  the  musk 
roses. 

This  court-yard,  as  well  as  a  more  extensive  garden, 
which  was  in  part  an  orchard,  situated  at  the  rear  of 
the  house,  was  tended  carefully  by  Dofla  Luz.     She 


CONCERNING  OTHER  DETAILS.  33 

even  sent  for  many  foreign  plants,  until  then  un- 
known in  Villafria,  and  acclimatized  them  there. 

Dofla  Luz  attended  to  nothing  else  in  the  house — 
not  through  indolence,  but  because,  according  to 
what  Don  Acisclo  said,  she  persisted  in  regarding 
herself  as  a  guest,  and  did  not  wish  to  undertake 
duties  which  she  might  find  difficulty  in  performing. 

She  who  directed  everything — the  real  manager 
and  housekeeper — was  the  Seilora  Petra,  a  woman  of 
about  fifty  years  of  age.  She  kept  an  account  of  the 
daily  expenses,  superintended  the  kitchen,  and  had 
charge  of  the  keys  of  the  pantry,  the  plate  closet,  the 
cask  room,  the  Avine,  oil,  brandy,  and  vinegar  cellars, 
and  the  granaries,  where  were  always  stores  of  wheat, 
barley,  pease,  vetches,  anise,  and  other  grains. 

Under  the  immediate  orders  of  the  Sefiora  Petra 
were  four  servants — two  young  girls,  tireless  workers, 
hardy,  robust,  and  vigorous — called  in  that  part  of  the 
country  "  house  servants,"  that  is  to  say,  servants 
whose  duty  it  was  to  scrub,  mop  up  the  floors,  white- 
wash the  walls,  and  keep  everything  in  the  house 
dazzlingly  clean ;  another  woman,  older,  although  still 
young,  who  sewed,  mended,  and  ironed  the  linen,  and 
another  who  cooked  the  most  savory  dishes  of  the 
country,  and  who  was  skilled  in  the  art  of  making 
sirups,  curds,  pastry,  conserves  and  honey-cakes. 

All  this  feminine  flock  lodged  and  slept  on  the 
main  floor  of  the  country  house,  in  which  lived  also 


34:  DOSfA  LUZ. 

the  farmer  and  his  wife,  with  their  four  children — • 
these  latter,  however,  in  so  remote  a  part  of  the  build- 
ing that  they  were  never  seen  or  heard,  except  when 
called  by  the  master. 

Finally,  there  was  a  boy  who  slept  near  the  stable, 
of  which,  as  well  as  of  the  courts  and  poultry  yard, 
he  had  the  care. 

Such  was  what  may  be  called  the  domestic  service 
of  the  house.  But  it  is  to  be  understood  that  the 
laborers  employed  by  the  day — the  muleteer,  the  care- 
takers, the  laborers  in  the  vineyard,  the  grape-press- 
ers,  the  laborers  engaged  in  the  mill,  and  the  field 
laborers — came  in  and  out,  and  lodged  at  the  country 
house  which  Avas  spacious,  and  whore  there  was  a  still, 
a  wine-press,  a  millstone,  and  presses  for  the  olives  and 
the  grapes. 

In  the  master's  house  lived,  as  I  have  said,  only 
Don  Acisclo,  Dofia  Luz,  and  Juana,  the  maid  of  the 
latter. 

Tomas,  the  former  servant  of  the  marquis,  lived  in 
the  ancestral  house  with  a  boy  who  assisted  him  in 
taking  care  of  it,  and  also  in  taking  care  of  the  sefio- 
rita's  handsome  black  horse. 

In  the  house  two  tables  were  set,  one  for  Don 
Acisclo  and  Dofia  Luz  and  such  guests  as  there 
might  chance  to  be  ;  the  other  for  the  family  (in  the 
towns  and  villages  of  Andalusia  the  servants  are  still 
called  the  family).     At  this  table,  at  Avhich  the  Se- 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OP  DOSfA  LUZ.       35 

flora  Petra  presided,  sat  the  two  liouse  servants,  the 
seamstress  and  laundress,  the  cook,  the  stable-boy, 
Tomas,  and  his  assistant,  and  J  nana,  the  maid  of 
Dofia  Luz. 

The  farmer  and  his  family  had  a  separate  table, 
the  farmer's  wife  preparing  their  food  on  a  little 
Moorish  cooking-stove. 

This  did  not  prevent  the  latter  from  being  fre- 
quently invited,  with  some  or  all  of  her  children,  and 
even  the  farmer  himself,  to  the  family  table,  at  which 
also  ate  the  muleteer  and  others  of  the  men  employed 
by  Don  Acisclo,  when  in  the  town,  and  to  which  the 
Seflora  Petra  and  Juana  arrogated  to  themselves  the 
right — a  right  which  they  did  not  neglect  to  exercise 
— to  invite  whatever  guests  they  might  choose. 

Such  was  the  household  in  which  Dofia  Luz  had 
lived  for  twelve  years,  and  such  were  the  people  by 
whom  she  was  surrounded  in  the  May  of  18G0. 


IV. 

THE   INTIMATE   FRIENDS   OF    D05lA    LFZ. 

Do5fA  Luz,  considering  her  disposition  and  the 
circumstances  in  which  she  was  placed,  could  not  live 
otherwise  than  as  she  lived. 

Pride  is  no  doubt  reprehensible. 

How  much  more  admirable  and  more  Christian  a 


36  DOSfA  LUZ. 

trait  is  humility.  In  pride  there  is  a  large  mixture  of 
selfishness,  while  humility  is  all  self-sacrifice  and  de- 
votion. And  yet  it  is  undeniable  that  a  just  pride  is 
at  times  the  source  of  exalted  virtues  and  an  incentive 
to  noble  exertions. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  we  can  not  conceal  the  fact  that 
our  heroine  was  extremely  proud. 

The  narrator  of  this  story,  far  from  having  any 
prejudices  in  favor  of  aristocracy,  has  always  been  of 
the  opinion  that  the  humblest  rustic  is  of  as  much 
real  worth  as  the  haughtiest  courtier.  Mutatis  mu- 
tandis, one  man  seems  to  him  the  equal  of  another. 
The  wife  of  an  alcalde  is  the  equal  of  an  empress  or  a 
queen ;  the  Avife  of  a  notary  is  the  equal  of  the  most 
fashionable  duchess  in  Madrid  ;  and,  to  his  way  of 
thinking,  young  So-and-so  is  more  high-minded,  a 
better  horseman,  more  charming  and  agreeable  in 
his  manners,  and  a  more  interesting  companion  than 
the  most  finshed  dandy  he  has  ever  known. 

Yet,  looking  into  the  matter  more  closely,  this  is 
not  the  true  democratic  spirit,  but  rather  a  black  and 
gloomy  pessimism.  An  optimistic  and  healthy  demo- 
cratic spirit  would  without  doubt  lead  us  to  believe 
that  a  good  education  from  infancy,  the  good  example 
and  the  good  name  of  parents  and  ancestors,  the  duty 
incumbent  upon  us  to  preserve  this  good  name  free 
from  dishonor  or  reproach,  and  more  urbane  and  cult- 
ured surroundings  should  be  discipline  and  incentive 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OP  DOI?A  LUZ.      37 

sufficient  to  be  virtuous  or  prudent,  or  agreeable  or 
honorable,  or  all  these  admirable  things  together. 
With  like  natural  qualities  and  intellectual  endow- 
ments, consequently,  the  possessor  of  the  afore-men- 
tioned external  advantages  should  be  greatly  the 
superior  of  him  who  does  not  possess  them.  With 
equal  natural  advantages  the  daughter  of  a  marquis, 
for  instance,  should  conduct  herself  better  than  the 
daughter  of  a  nobody.  To  take  a  different  view  of 
the  democratic  spirit  would  be  to  imply  that  what  we 
ought  to  desire  is  equality  by  descent,  not  by  ascent, 
equality  in  ignorance,  abjectness,  and  misery,  and  not 
equality  in  the  highest  possible  elevation,  in  the  pos- 
session of  all  those  means,  all  that  accumulation  of  re- 
sources made  by  past  generations  to  the  end  that  by 
their  help  we  may  continue  progressing  toward  good- 
ness, knowledge,  and  beauty. 

I  can  regard  as  worthy  of  all  respect,  and  little  less 
than  holy,  although  it  should  seek  to  attain  its  end 
by  crooked  ways,  the  democratic  or  even  socialistic 
purpose  of  the  demagogue  Avhose  aim  it  is  to  bestow 
upon  all  men  the  liberal  education,  the  wealth,  and  all 
the  other  advantages  enjoyed  by  so-called  aristocrats, 
if  those  advantages  are  to  be  employed,  not  for 
enjoyment  only,  but  for  the  improvement  of  charac- 
ter ;  but  if  they  are  to  be  used  only  for  enjoyment,  and 
their  possession  results  in  making  men  more  effemi- 
nate, worthless,  and  corrupt,  then  I  find  fewer  argu- 


38  DOSfA  LUZ. 

ments  in  favor  of  the  democracy  of  progress  than  of 
the  democracy  of  Eousseau,  which  aims  at  bringing 
men  back  to  a  state  of  nature. 

In  any  case,  however,  be  it  understood  that  I  have 
no  desire  to  defend  either  of  these  systems  here.  I 
am  not  writing  a  treatise  on  political  philosophy,  nor 
is  it  my  purpose  to  represent  Doiia  Luz  as  a  model  of 
all  the  virtues,  but  to  represent  her  as  she  was. 

Dofia  Luz  had  a  profound  consciousness  of  her 
own  dignity  as  a  human  being,  but  she  supposed  that 
her  superiority  in  this  respect  to  those  around  her  was 
due,  not  to  natural  endowment  only,  but  to  the  fact 
of  her  having  received  a  better  and  more  careful  edu- 
cation than  they.  This  seems  modesty  rather  than 
pride.  She  had  formed  for  herself  an  ideal  which  she 
believed  she  must  strive  to  realize,  and  which  she  had, 
in  part,  realized  and  developed,  as  it  were,  thanks,  no 
doubt,  to  her  own  efforts,  but  aided  also  by  the  favor- 
able circumstances  of  her  rank  and  her  surroundings, 
in  which  she  was  more  fortunate  than  most  people, 
and  for  which  she  was  indebted  to  Providence.  She 
deemed  that  she  was  more  favored  by  heaven  than 
others,  and  that  consequently  she  had  more  duties 
than  others  to  fulfill.  For  each  divine  favor  she  had 
received  there  was  a  corresponding  obligation;  she 
had  talent,  she  was  in  duty  bound  to  cultivate  it.  She 
was  beautiful  and  healthy,  it  was  obligatory  on  her  to 
preserve  her  beauty  and  her  health.     She  was  the  in- 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OP  DOSfA  LUZ.      39 

heritor  of  an  illustrious  name,  and  if  she  could  not 
succeed  in  conferring  greater  luster  upon  it,  it  was  her 
duty  at  least  to  avoid  tarnishing  it. 

Although  she  regarded  other  human  beings  as  her 
equals  by  nature,  she  considered  humanity,  as  a  whole, 
as  in  a  state  of  constant  progress  toward  serener  and 
more  luminous  heights.  If,  though  but  .by  a  caprice 
of  fate,  she  had  advanced  farther  on  the  road  and  was 
neai'er  the  summit  than  many  others,  she  conceived 
her  duty,  as  a  lover  of  her  kind,  to  be  limited  to  ex- 
tending her  hand  to  those  who  were  on  the  way  to 
reach  the  heights  she  had  already  attained,  and  not  to 
those  who  were  so  far  beneath  her  or  so  sunk  in  the 
mire  that  by  seeking  to  aid  them,  instead  of  raising 
them,  she  should  herself  be  drawn  down  into  the  mire 
also. 

We  have  already  intimated  that  the  pride  of  Dofla 
Luz  concealed  itself  under  the  most  amiable  exterior, 
and  this,  not  through  prudence  or  self-interest,  but 
through  a  lively  sentiment  of  charity.  Nothing  was 
more  painful  to  her  than  to  humiliate  a  fellow-being. 
If  she  sometimes  took  pleasure  in  displaying  a  par- 
ticular accomplishment,  some  intellectual  endowment, 
or  personal  gift  or  grace,  it  was  in  the  presence  of 
those  who  might  profit  by  the  stimulus  of  her  exam- 
ple and  seek  to  raise  themselves  to  her  level,  not  with 
the  desire  of  exciting  either  envy  or  profitless  admira- 
tion. 


40  -DONA  LUZ. 

Dofia  Luz,  for  the  very  reason  that  she  was  so 
proud,  had  not  a  spark  of  vanity.  She  liked  in  all 
things  to  return  with  usury  what  she  had  received. 
She  did  not  desire  to  be  loved  by  others  better  than 
she  loved  them.  Coquetry  was  consequently  a  vice 
unknown  and  almost  incomprehensible  to  her.  Her 
own  good  opinion,  the  favorable  judgment  pronounced 
by  herself  upon  any  of  her  acts,  qualities,  or  virtues 
flattered  and  pleased  her  more  than  the  applause  of 
those  who  surrounded  her.  Thus  it  was  that  if  she 
delighted  to  please  it  was  through  pure  goodness  of 
heart ;  from  which  resulted  a  naturalness,  a  modesty, 
and  an  apparent  forgetfulness  of  her  own  merits 
which  charmed  and  surprised. 

"Women  in  general  are  eager  to  inspire  love.  Dofia 
Luz  sought  to  avoid  doing  so,  and  contrived  by  some 
timely  act  or  word  to  stifle  this  feeling  at  its  birth  in 
every  heart  where  she  suspected  its  existence.  "Why 
should  she  wish  to  be  loved  if  she  could  not  returij 
the  affection  of  those  who  loved  her?  In  love,  as  in 
friendship,  Dofia  Luz  desired  to  give  back  double 
measure.  And  finding  that  there  was  no  one  in  Vil- 
lafria  whom  she  could  love  she  had  comported  herself 
in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  the  young  men  of  the  town 
gradually  to  withdraw  from  her  society,  and  had 
chosen  her  intimate  friends  among  the  old  men  of 
the  place. 

Although  amiable  toward  every  one,  her  manners 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OF  DOSfA  LUZ.      41 

were  so  studiously  courteous  that,  without  drawing 
on  herself  the  reproach  of  pride,  she  had  succeeded  in 
avoiding  intimacy  with  any  excepting  only  four  per- 
sons. 

The  first  of  these  was  Don  Miguel,  the  parish 
priest,  an  old  man  of  excellent  disposition,  but  of  ex- 
tremely limited  intelligence,  to  whom  she  made  her 
confession  every  month,  to  whom  she  gave  her  savings 
to  be  distributed  in  alms  among  the  poor,  and  with 
whom  she  often  played  tute.  The  heart  and  mind  of 
Dofia  Luz  were  for  the  poor  priest  the  book  with  the 
seven  seals.  In  this  ignorance  of  her  merits,  and 
being,  besides,  of  a  not  very  enthusiastic  nature,  Don 
Miguel's  affection  for  Dofla  Luz  was  moderate,  but 
it  was  as  strong  as  the  capacity  of  his  soul  for  affec- 
tion admitted,  which  was  not  great.  Dofia  Luz,  on 
the  other  hand,  idolized  the  priest,  in  a  certain  sense. 
She  delighted  in  the  transparent  simplicity  of  his 
nature,  in  his  neatness,  in  his  innocent  vacuity  of 
spirit,  and  she  petted  and  spoiled  him  as  if  he  were 
a  little  child.  Availing  herself  of  the  services  of  a 
smuggler  who  brought  cotton  goods  from  Lisbon  to 
Villafria,  she  obtained  from  the  former  place  for  Don 
Miguel  the  choicest  snuff,  and,  managing  so  that 
they  should  not  prove  injurious  to  him,  she  sent  him 
sweetmeats,  biscuits  and  other  dainties,  of  which  the 
priest  was  very  fond. 

Another  intimate  friend,  of  more  importance  than 


42  DOSfA  LUZ. 

the  priest,  was  the  doctor  of  the  place,  Don  Anselmo. 
And  I  say  of  more  importance,  because  of  his  per- 
sonal merits,  not  because  Dofia  Luz  stood  in  need  of 
his  services.  The  health  of  Dona  Luz  was  arrogantly 
good.  She  had  never  even  so  slight  an  ailment  as  a 
headache. 

Don  Anselmo  possessed  a  clear  intelligence,  and 
was  not  only  a  learned  and  skillful  physician  but  also 
a  man  of  varied  information  and  of  singular  elo- 
quence. It  may  seem  strange  that  with  these  gifts 
he  should  have  remained  all  his  life  a  doctor  in  a 
country  town.  Either  fortune  had  never  smiled  upon 
him,  or  his'  harsh  and  intractable  nature  had  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  advancement.  However  this  may  be, 
he  had  resigned  himself  to  end  his  days  in  the  prac- 
tice of  his  profession  in  Villafria. 

Dofia  Luz  and  Don  Anselmo  were  mutually 
charmed  with  each  other.  For  this  there  were  va- 
rious reasons.  Now  that  schemas  are  in  fashion,  we 
may  represent  the  spirits  of  the  doctor  and  the  sefior- 
ita  as  two  eccentric  spheres,  touching  and  intersect- 
ing each  other  on  one  side  where  they  formed  wide 
segments  united  at  their  base — something  similar  to 
humanity  in  the  scheina  of  being,  to  the  lens  which 
the  Krausists  have  rendered  so  famous.  Don  An- 
selmo and  Dofia  Luz,  then,  had  a  spiritual  lens  in 
common  in  which  they  understood  each  other  per- 
fectly, the  rest  of  the  sphere  of  each  remaining  un- 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OF  DONA  LUZ.      43 

known  to  and  unexplored  by  the  other.  Thus  it  was 
that  they  never  came  to  know  each  other  by  heart — a 
rock  on  which  minds  of  similar  bent  often  split — 
which  in  the  end  is  apt  to  engender  tedium  and 
dislike. 

These  two  friends  had  always  an  unexplored  field 
in  which  to  make  excursions  and  discoveries,  each 
penetrating  or  seeking  to  penetrate  into  the  mind  of 
the  other.  They  were  never  tired  of  conversing  to- 
gether, and  their  conversation  was  one  continual  dis- 
pute. Dofia  Luz  was  a  believer  and  an  idealist,  with 
a  tinge  of  mysticism ;  Don  Anselmo  a  fierce  materi- 
alist. Don  Anselmo  was,  besides,  an  indefatigable 
talker,  and  nothing  delighted  him  more  than  to  have 
a  listener.  They  rested  from  their  disputes  only  when 
they  played  chess.  They  were  in  the  habit  of  playing 
one  or  two  games  together  every  day. 

Don  Anselmo  was  at  this  time  about  sixty  years 
old.  Like  Don  Acisclo  he  was  a  widower,  and  he  had 
a  daughter  of  twenty,  a  charming  brunette,  petite 
and  slender,  still  unmarried,  called  Dofia  Manolita 
and  nicknamed  "  the  Snake-like."  This  name  had 
been  given  her  on  account  of  the  extraordinary  quick- 
ness and  agility  of  her  movements.  They  said  in  the 
town  that  she  was  formed  and  compounded,  as  it 
were,  of  lizards'  tails.  She  was  constantly  saying  or 
doing  something  ridiculous,  tliough  she  never,  either 
in  act  or  speech,  transgressed  the  bounds  of   pro- 


44:  DONA  LUZ. 

priety,  for  which  reason  she  was  also  called  "the 
Thunder-clap  " ;  but  she  was  in  reality  not  a  thunder- 
clap, but  a  whirlwind  of  bursts  of  laughter,  of  merry 
jests  and  of  entertaining  speeches,  for  she  was  no  less 
talkative  than  her  father.  In  other  respects  the  char- 
acter of  Manolita  could  not  be  improved  upon.  She 
was  loyal,  affectionate,  incapable  of  malice  or  envy, 
quick-witted,  and  more  thoughtful  and  judicious  in 
important  matters  than  might  have  been  supposed 
from  her  apparent  giddiness. 

As  Dofia  Luz  was  serious  and  composed  by  nature, 
she  found  in  Dofia  Manolita's  character  the  comple- 
ment of  her  own.  This  it  was,  no  doubt,  which  in- 
fluenced her  in  making  the  doctor's  daughter  her 
companion.  Dofia  Manolita  was  the  only  person  in 
Villafria  whom  Dofia  Luz  addressed  as  "  thou."  She 
did  not  yet  repose  absolute  confidence  in  her,  for 
Dofia  Luz  was  extremely  reserved,  but  day  by  day 
Dofia  Manolita  won  upon  her  affections.  They 
walked  together,  they  went  to  church  together,  they 
sat  side  by  side  at  the  reunions  which  they  attended. 
Dofia  Manolita  copied  Dofia  Luz  in  her  dress  and  in 
her  mode  of  wearing  her  hair,  and  came  and  went  at 
her  bidding.  Dofia  Manolita  used  to  say  that  she  was 
for  Dona  Luz  what  the  comic  servant  is  to  the  lover 
of  the  domestic  drama,  and  as  in  several  of  the  best 
of  these  dramas  this  servant  is  called  Polilla,  she  used 
to  say  to  Dona  Luz,  "  My  dear,  I  am  your  Polilla." 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OP  DONA  LUZ.      45 

With  regard  to  Don  Acisclo  Dofia  Luz  entertained 
the  same  opinion  as  her  father  had  done,  and  did  not 
cherish  toward  him  the  slightest  feeling  of  resentment, 
because  he  had  enriched  himself  with  the  fortune  of 
her  ancestors.  If  the  marquis  had  been  resolved  upon 
ruining  himself,  how  was  Don  Acisclo  to  blame  for  it? 
Guided  by  a  more  refined  morality,  of  which  Don 
Acisclo  could  have  no  knowledge,  the  steward  might 
possibly  have  been  able  to  save  the  fortune  of  the 
marquis-;  he  might  possibly  have  prolonged  the  splen- 
dor of  the  house  for  an  additional  ten  years,  but  to 
expect  this  morality  in  Villafria  was  to  expect  impos- 
sibilities. It  was  sufficient  for  Dofia  Luz,  therefore, 
in  order  to  be  profoundly  grateful  to  Don  Acisclo,  to 
entertain  the  firm  persuasion  she  entertained,  that 
with  any  other  steward  of  Villafria,  her  father's  ruin 
would  have  taken  place  ten  years  sooner  than  it  had 
done,  and  she  herself  would  not  have  been  brought 
up,  like  an  elegant  lady,  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  with  her 
English  governess  and  all  the  care  befitting  her  sta- 
tion. God  alone  knew  what  would  have  become  of 
her  if  the  marquis  had  ruined  himself  and  died  of  the 
spleen,  leaving  her  orphaned  at  the  age  of  five,  instead 
of  fifteen. 

And  then  Dofia  Luz  liked  Don  Acisclo.  She 
sympathized  with  his  activity,  his  industry,  and  the 
other  virtues  which  were  conspicuous  in  his  character. 

For  the  sake  of  appearances,  Dofia  Luz  had  lived 


46  dojJa  luz. 

in  Don  Acisclo's  house,  without  showing  any  wish  to 
take  up  her  residence  in  the  ancestral  house,  until  she 
had  completed  her  twenty-second  year.  Subsequent 
to  that  time  she  had  on  several  occasions  expressed  a 
desire  to  do  so,  but  Don  Acisclo  had  always  gently 
and  affectionately  urged  her  to  remain  in  his  house. 
He  told  her  that  it  would  be  a  great  grief  to  him  to 
live  alone,  after  having  grown  accustomed  to  her  so- 
ciety, and  he  appealed  also,  somewhat  grotesquely,  to 
her  regard  for  public  opinion,  saying  that,  as  Dofla 
Luz  was  a  young  girl,  she  ought  not  to  act  with  the 
same  independence  as  if  she  were  an  old  maid,  for, 
however  discreet  and  austere  might  be  her  conduct,  if 
she  were  to  live  alone  some  one  would  always  be 
found  to  say  of  her  that  she  was  a  "  cow  strayed  from 
the  herd." 

Doila  Luz,  far  from  being  offended,  laughed  at  tliis 
not  very  complimentary  comparison,  and  continued  to 
reside  in  the  house  of  the  former  steward. 

And  then  Dofia  Luz  enjoyed  there  complete  inde- 
pendence. 

Three  or  four  rooms  in  the  house  had  been  set 
apart  for  her  exclusive  use,  and  were  furnished  with 
exquisite  taste.  The  only  persons  who  liad  free  access 
to  these  rooms  were  the  four  intimate  friends  already 
mentioned :  Juana,  her  maid ;  one  of  the  house 
servants  who  attended  to  the  rooms  under  Juana's 
superintendence,  lest  some  object  of  art,  or  valuable 


\ 


THE  INTIMATE  FRIENDS  OP  D05fA  LUZ.      47 

piece  of  furniture  might  be  broken ;  and  finally  three 
other  living  creatures,  who  were  also  partly  friends  of 
Doila  Luz,  and  who  completed  or  rounded  the  circle 
of  her  intimates.  These  three  creatures  were  Tomas, 
her  father's  former  servant  and  now  her  squire  and 
companion  in  her  horseback  excursions ;  Uncle  Bias, 
the  farmer  whom  she  employed  to  take  care  of  her 
property,  which  she  herself  managed,  and  which  had 
increased  in  value  so  greatly  as  to  have  produced  in  a 
few  years  of  abundant  harvests  almost  twenty  thou- 
sand reals ;  and  an  enormous  white  greyhound,  Palo- 
mo,  who  was  all  sweetness,  docility,  and  gentleness 
with  his  mistress,  but  who  displayed  the  utmost  fierce- 
ness to  those  whom  he  suspected  of  wishing  to  hurt  or 
annoy  her. 

In  addition  to  this  daily  companionship,  Dofia  Luz 
often  took  part  in  reunions  of  a  more  general  charac- 
ter. The  sons,  daughters,  sons-in-law  and  daughters- 
in-law  of  Don  Acisclo,  with  their  numerous  children, 
their  fathers-in-law  and  their  mothers-in-law,  godfa- 
thers and  godmothers,  formed  a  multitude  with  whom 
it  was  necessary  to  mingle  occasionally.  They  were 
all  insignificant  and  by  no  means  entertaining ;  they 
were  mediocre,  in  every  sense,  and  Dofia  Luz  worked 
wonders  of  diplomacy  to  avoid  their  company  without 
offending  them. 

On  the  saint's  day  and  the  birthday  of  each  mem- 
ber of  Don  Acisclo's  family  there  was  a  patriarchal 
4 


4:8  do5Ja  luz. 

banquet  in  the  house,  with  much  merry-making  and 
dancing.  Doila  Luz  made  it  a  point  to  be  present 
at  these  entertainments,  and  generally  succeeded  in 
charming  everybody  by  her  amiability  and  gayety. 


V. 

THE    FRIENDSHIP   OF    DO:f?A   MANOLITA. 

The  life  led  by  Dona  Luz,  however,  was  so  regu- 
lar, so  monotonous,  so  exempt  from  anything  to  dis- 
tinguish one  day  from  another,  that  one  year  had  fol- 
lowed another,  leaving  in  her  mind  only  a  confused 
recollection  of  their  events,  like  that  of  a  dream. 

This  sort  of  existence  has  for  every  one  the  charm 
of  peace.  For  Dofia  Luz  it  possessed  a  still  higher 
charm. 

When  her  mind  was  occupied  with  thoughts,  or 
her  soul  Avith  desires  or  emotions,  she  had  no  con- 
sciousness of  her  external  surroundings ;  she  dwelt 
in  an  ideal  world  in  which  there  is  neither  time  nor- 
space.  So  that,  although  the  mind  and  heart  of  Dofia 
Luz,  Avho  differed  in  no  wise  from  other  mortals  in 
this  respect,  were  unable  to  embrace  all  things  at 
once,  yet,  as  the  causes  of  her  profoundest  thoughts 
and  her  intensest  emotions  belonged  to  no  determi- 
nate point  on  our  planet,  nor  any  fixed  moment  in 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  D05fA  MANOLITA.      49 

time,  these  thoughts  and  emotions  also  were  exempt 
from  the  laws  of  time  and  space,  and  seemed  to  have 
their  goal  in  an  immutable  eternity. 

I  should  be  sorry  to  be  misunderstood  on  this 
point,  and  I  will  try  to  make  my  meaning  clearer, 
although  in  doing  so  I  may  err  by  diffuseness.  Dofia 
Luz  was  no  mystic  dreamer ;  she  was  very  far  from 
living  in  a  state  of  continual  ecstasy.  She  saw,  under- 
stood, and  appreciated  all  that  passed  around  her  in 
the  actual  world,  but  the  incidents  and  events  that 
took  place  in  Villafria  interested  her  less,  although 
they  passed  under  her  immediate  observation,  than 
did  the  incidents  and  events  described  in  history, 
novels,  or  poetry,  or  even  those  which  she  drew  from 
her  own  fancy  at  times.  Neither  did  Dofia  Luz  pos- 
sess a  heart  of  stone,  but  a  heart  which  was  very  com- 
passionate and  tender  toward  her  fellow-beings.  She 
pitied,  relieved,  and  consoled  them  in  their  troubles 
as  far  as  was  in  her  power,  and  in  this  she  expended 
a  part  of  her  energy.  But  as  her  energy  was  great, 
and  extended  far  beyond  the  limits  of  Villafria,  into 
the  limits  of  the  infinite,  in  fact,  the  result  was  that 
the  most  intimate  and  essential  part  of  her  life,  the 
interests  which  most  nearly  concerned  her,  were  not 
in  Villafria,  and  consequently  were  nowhere.  There- 
fore, without  being  a  dreamer,  she  lived  in  a  dream. 

No  matter  how  exalted  an  idea  we  may  wish  to 
convey  of  another's  kindness  of  heart,  we  do  not  go 


60  DOSfA  LUZ. 

so  far  as  to  say  that  the  most  important  epochs  of  his 
existence  are  marked  by  the  day  on  which  his  oppo- 
site neighbor's  son  died  of  the  small-pox,  or  by  the 
night  on  which  the  farm-house  of  the  farmer  with 
whom  he  chanced  to  enter  into  conversation  during 
a  walk  or  coming  out  of  church  one  day  was  burned 
down.  To  mark  those  epochs  in  our  lives,  events  are 
necessary  which  touch  ourselves  more  nearly.  For 
Doila  Luz  there  had  been  no  epoch  of  this  kind  since 
the  death  of  her  father.  It  is  true  that  she  attached 
but  little  importance  to  a  multitude  of  things  with 
which  other  women  concern  themselves,  occupying 
their  minds  with  details  apparently  the  most  insig- 
nificant. 

There  is  no  trait  in  my  opinion  more  peculiarly 
distinctive  of  the  feminine  mind  than  this.  I  con- 
fess that  I  am  struck  dumb  with  amazement  when  I 
hear  women  relating  incidents,  events,  or  conversa- 
tions. There  is  not  a  detail  which  they  have  forgot- 
ten. "  He  said  " — and  they  tell  all  he  said.  "  And 
the  other  answered  " — and  they  repeat  word  for  word 
what  he  answered.  "  And  then  the  first  one  replied  " 
— and  not  a  single  letter  of  the  reply  is  misplaced. 
The  hearer  might  fancy  that  they  had  taken  down  a 
faithful  and  circumstantial  report  on  the  spot  of  all 
that  had  happened.  Not  so  Dofia  Luz,  upon  whose 
mind  very  few  occurrences  made  any  strong  impres- 
sion. 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  DORa  MANOLITA.       61 

Those  things  that  most  enchanted,  delighted,  and 
moved  her  were  the  same  to-day  as  yesterday,  the 
same  this  year  as  last — the  return  of  spring,  a  starry 
sky,  the  moonlight,  the  dawn,  the  fragrance  and  the 
beauty  of  the  flowers,  music,  poetry,  and  similar 
things,  which  are  of  all  time. 

Even  the  friendship  existing  between  Dofla  Luz 
and  the  doctor,  the  priest,  and  Don  Acisclo  was  un- 
varying— it  always  remained  in  the  same  state,  with- 
out increase  or  diminution. 

Only  in  her  friendship  with  Dofla  Manolita,  which 
continually  increased  in  intensity,  was  there  any  va- 
riation. 

It  was  a  morning  in  May.  We  have  already  said 
that  Dona  Luz  was  an  early  riser.  The  doctor's 
daughter  was  also  an  early  riser.  At  seven  in  the 
morning  she  entered  her  friend's  little  parlor,  to 
which  she  had  always  free  access. 

If  any  man  of  the  world,  familiar  with  the  life 
of  Madrid,  or  any  other  of  the  great  European  cap- 
itals, and  familiar  also  with  the  manner  of  life  in  our 
Andalusian  toAvns  and  villages,  had  chanced  at  this 
moment  to  enter  this  little  room,  he  would  have  been 
agreeably  surprised,  and  might  even  have  doubted 
the  evidence  of  his  senses. 

The  parlor  of  Dona  Luz  was  as  comfortable  and 
elegant  as  the  parlor  of  the  lady  most  comme  il  faut 
of  Madrid,  while   at    the    same    time    it    had    cer- 


52  DONA  ,LUZ. 

tain  attractions  peculiar  to  the  country  and  to  the 
place. 

Two  windows  opened  out  on  the  orchard,  where 
were  to  be  seen  acacias,  dark  elms,  flowers,  fruit  trees, 
now  in  blossom,  and  brilliant  verdure.  In  the  parlor 
itself,  too,  were  plants  and  flowers  growing  in  porce- 
lain vases.  A  large  cage  contained  a  multitude  of 
birds,  which  filled  the  room  with  their  joyous  trills 
and  carols.  Dofia  Luz  also  had  two  beautiful  antique 
desks,  with  little  drawers  and  columns  inlaid  with 
ivory,  ebony,  and  mother-of-pearl ;  comfortable  arm- 
chairs and  a  sofa ;  a  French  fireplace  of  better  con- 
struction than  the  others  in  the  house ;  mirrors,  fine 
paintings,  and  a  bookcase  full  of  richly  bound  books. 

Above  her  writing-table  was  hung  the  finest  of 
her  pictures,  or  at  least  that  which  Dofia  Luz  es- 
teemed the  most.  Various  attributes  and  emblems  of 
the  Passion  were  represented  in  it — the  nails,  the 
crown  of  thorns,  the  ladder,  the  cock  and  lance  of 
Longinus.  In  the  center  of  the  picture  was  the  cross, 
and  around  the  cross  a  variety  of  flowers,  exquisitely 
painted.  It  was  not  the  picture  itself,  however,  that 
gave  this  object  so  high  a  value  in  the  eyes  of  Dofia 
Luz  ;  it  was  what  the  picture  concealed.  Touching  a 
spring,  the  painting  we  have  described  moved  aside 
like  a  door,  disclosing  to  view  another  painting  of  far 
superior  merit,  a  painting  at  once  horrible  and  beauti- 
fixl.     It  was  a  figure  of  Christ,  half  length,  of  won- 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  DORA  MANOLITA.       53 

derful  beauty  of  conception  and  delicate  and  elaborate 
execution.  The  hairs  on  the  head  and  in  the  beard 
could  almost  be  counted,  the  regularity  and  noble 
symmetry  of  the  features  inspired  love  and  venera- 
tion, but  the  suffering  of  the  crucifixion,  the  horrors 
of  the  agony,  were  revealed  in  the  thin  and  emaciated 
countenance,  the  breast  and  the  side  wounded  by  the 
lance.  It  was  a  dead  Christ.  The  right  hand  show- 
ing the  livid  wound  made  by  the  nail,  rested  on  the 
fleshless  breast.  The  wounds  made  by  the  thorns,  still 
bleeding,  were  visible  in  the  temples,  the  mouth  was 
half  open,  the  lips  livid,  the  eyelids,  drooping  al- 
though not  entirely  closed,  allowed  the  fixed  and 
glassy  eyes  to  be  seen.  The  painter  had  succeeded  in 
uniting,  with  marvelous  inspiration,  the  image  of  a 
creature  in  the  agonies  of  dissolution  with  the  super- 
human image  assumed  by  God  himself. 

Some  learned  art  critics  attributed  this  picture  to 
the  divine  Morales,  others  said  that  it  was  by  a  pupil 
of  Morales,  and  not  by  the  master  himself.  However 
this  may  be,  the  picture  had  been  long  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  family,  and  was  one  oi  the  few  objects  of 
value  which  the  marquis  had  not  sold. 

The  picture  was  of  such  a  character  that  a  woman 
of  less  robust  health  or  of  less  strength  of  mind  than 
Dofla  Luz  would  not  have  kept  it  in  her  room  and 
contemplated  it  with  so  much  frequency  as  she  did. 
Love  for  the  divine  representation  of  Christ  would 


64  D05fA  LUZ. 

have  been  mingled  with  terror  and  with  an  intense 
pity  which  might  have  brought  on  a  hysterical  attack 
or  even  delirium.  But  Dofia  Luz  was  very  peculiar, 
and  found  a  strange  delight  in  the  prolonged  contem- 
plation of  this  picture,  in  which  were  depicted  the 
most  profound  mystery  and  the  attributes  of  hu- 
manity most  opposed  to  each  other — all  the  beatitude, 
all  the  beauty,  all  the  celestial  radiance  of  which  the 
flesh  is  capable,  united  to  a  pure  soul,  the  temple  and 
dwelling  place  of  the  Eternal,  and  all  the  pain,  the 
weakness,  the  pitiable  suffering,  and  the  sickening 
corruption  to  which  flesh  is  heir. 

Dofla  Luz  had  found  this  terrible  picture  dis- 
creetly concealed  by  the  other,  and  thus  she  had  pre- 
served it,  causing  it  to  be  brought  from  her  own  house 
to  her  apartment  in  the  house  of  Don  Acisclo.  She 
scarcely  ever  showed  it  to  any  one,  but  she  herself, 
who,  in  her  active  and  tireless  spirit  had  strange  and 
contradictory  tendencies,  after  galloping  recklessly  on 
her  black  horse  for  two  or  three  hours,  and  then  hav- 
ing seen  with  enjoyment  his  beautiful  limbs,  which 
the  violent  exercise  had  covered  with  sweat,  bathed 
and  rubbed  down,  overflowing  with  health,  in  all  the 
vigor  of  her  youth,  and  the  bloom  of  her  living 
beauty,  would  be  seized  by  ascetic  impulses,  and  un- 
covering the  picture  she  would  gaze  long  at  it,  and 
tears  would  spring  to  her  eyes,  and  her  rosy  lips  would 
murmur  inarticulately  prayers  of  ineffable  tenderness. 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OP  DONA  MANOLITA.       55 

On  the  morning  of  which  we  speak  there  was 
nothing  of  asceticism  in  Dofla  Luz,  or  at  least,  if  there 
was,  there  was  no  evidence  of  it  in  her  appearance. 
She  was  attired  in  an  elegant  morning  gown,  and  her 
fair  hair,  not  yet  dressed,  was  gathered  up  in  an  in- 
visible net.  Reclining  languidly  in  her  easy  chair, 
she  was  reading  two  books  alternately.  They  were 
the  works  of  Calderon  and  of  Alfred  de  Musset.  She 
was  comparing  the  manner  in  which  those  two  au- 
thors had  put  in  dramatic  action  the  saying,  "  There 
is  no  trifling  with  love" — Ov,  ne  badine  pas  avec 
Vamour. 

She  had  not  been  led  to  make  this  study  by  a 
purely  speculative  fondness  for  literary  criticisms,  but 
by  a  case  in  point  which  something  more  than  two 
months  before  had  come  under  her  observation,  and 
which  greatly  interested  her. 

Pepe  Giieto,  a  young  man  about  thirty  years  of 
age,  was  the  son  of  a  rich  farmer  of  Villafria.  There 
was  no  one  in  the  whole  province  more  steady,  sober, 
and  sensible  than  he.  The  follies  of  Dona  ]\Iano- 
lita  and  her  somewhat  exaggerated  gayety  of  spirit 
shocked  him  greatly,  and  he  was  constantly  censuring 
them.  He  had  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  if  Dofia 
Manolita  were  in  any  way  connected  with  him — his 
wife,  for  instance — he  would  beat  out  of  her  the 
lizard's  tails,  even  if  in  order  to  do  so  it  should  be 
necessary  to  employ  a  good  rattan.     Dofia  Manolita, 


66  DONA  LUZ. 

on  the  other  hand,  who  was  aware  of  all  this,  used  to 
say  that  Pepe  Giieto  was  a  great  braggart,  but  that  he 
was  not  without  a  certain  amount  of  culture,  that 
he  would  never  be  capable  of  striking  a  woman,  and 
tliat  if  ho  should  ever  be  her  husband,  instead  of 
beating  her,  he  would  allow  himself  to  be  beaten,  and 
would  be  the  model  of  hen-pecked  husbands.  The 
doctor's  daughter  added  that  excessive  gravity,  es- 
pecially in  young  men,  is  apt  to  be  mistaken  for  stu- 
pidity, and  that  she  was  worth  very  little  if  she  could 
not  drive  his  seriousness  out  of  Pepe  Giieto  as  devils 
are  driven  out  of  one  possessed,  and  tliat  if  he  were 
not  already  a  fool  she  was  resolved  to  drive  him 
out  of  his  senses  and  make  him  commit  a  thousand 
follies. 

These  threats,  in  their  turn,  reached  the  ear  of 
Pepe  Giieto,  whence  it  resulted  that  whenever  the 
pair  met  they  got  into  fresh  disputes,  he  censuring 
her  giddiness  and  want  of  circumspection,  she  ridi- 
culing his  gravity  and  calling  him  a  fool.  The  anger 
and  spite  of  both  increased  to  such  a  degree  that 
now  merely  casual  encounters  were  not  sufficient  to 
enable  them  to  give  full  vent  to  their  feelings,  and 
they  would  seek  occasion  to  meet  each  other  in  order 
to  renew  their  disputes  and  heap  abuse  upon  each 
other.  These  quarrels  generally  terminated  by  Pepe 
Giieto  saying,  "  If  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be  your 
husband  I  would  soon   bring  you  to  reason  " ;  and 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  DONA  MANOLITA.       57 

with  Dofia  Manolita  answering :  "  If  I  were  to  commit 
the  folly  of  marrying  as  stupid  a  man  as  you,  I  would 
either  make  you  as  lively  as  a  cricket,  or  I  would  re- 
nounce forever  the  reputation  I  enjoy." 

Pepe  Giieto  and  Dofia  Manolita  took  so  great  a 
pleasure  in  these  quarrels,  disputes,  and  recriminations 
that  they  now  indulged  in  them  several  times  every  day. 

All  this  had  given  food  for  thought  to  Dofia  Luz, 
who  had  a  strong  affection  for  Dofia  Manolita,  and 
was  the  occasion  of  her  now  reading  the  dramas  wc 
have  mentioned,  having  previously  read  again  a  drama 
of  Shakspeare,  in  which  the  same  subject  is  treated 
in  a  more  masterly  manner. 

Dona  Luz  was  absorbed  in  her  reading  when,  as 
we  have  said,  Dona  Manolita  entered  her  room. 

After  they  had  embraced  each  other  and  kissed 
each  other  and  cordially  bade  each  other  good  morn- 
ing, the  doctor's  daughter  spoke  as  follows : 

"  My  dear,  you  must  be  the  first  to  hear  the  news  ; 
you  shall  hear  it  even  before  my  father.  Great  news ! 
My  fights  with  Pepe  Giieto  have  ceased  to  be  skir- 
mishes. The  madness  of  both  of  us  has  reached  its 
height.  AVe  have  challenged  each  other  to  mortal 
combat." 

"  AVhat  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  asked  Dofia  Luz. 

"  I  mean,"  replied  her  friend,  "  that  in  order  to 
settle  the  question  as  to  whether  I  am  to  drive  him 
crazy  or  he  is  to  make  me  sensible,  we  have  made  up 


68  DONA  LUZ. 

our  minds  to  be  married.  It  is  true,  iudeed,  that  he 
acknowledges  himself  beaten  for  the  time,  and  says 
that  the  very  fact  of  his  wishing  to  marry  me  proves 
him  to  be  out  of  his  mind,  and  that  even  without 
our  marrying  I  have  already  won  the  wager,  but  he 
adds  that  for  that  very  reason  he  wishes  to  marry  me 
in  order  to  have  his  revenge  and  to  compensate  him- 
self for  his  defeat.  I  answer  with  the  saying :  '  What 
I  am  sorry  for  is  not  that  my  son  has  lost,  but  that  he 
wants  to  win  back  his  money,'  and  I  tell  him  that  if 
he  continues  the  game  he  will  come  out  of  it  tearing 
his  hair,  and  I  warn  him  that  his  defeat  will  be  still 
more  complete  when  he  is  married.  But  the  insolent 
and  audacious  fellow  refuses  to  take  the  warning,  and 
is  determined  to  rush  blindly  to  his  fate.  This  very 
day,  more  valiant  than  the  Cid  Campeador  himself, 
he  is  going  to  ask  my  father  for  this  lily-white  hand, 
which  will  take  hold  of  the  reins  and  compel  him  to 
depart  from  his  slow  and  gentle  pace,  like  that  of  a 
canon's  mule,  and  jump  about  more  briskly  than  your 
beautiful  black  horse." 

Dofla  Luz,  who  could  never  conceal  her  feelings, 
which  showed  themselves  in  her  countenance  as  the 
white  pebbles  at  the  bottom  of  a  lake  show  themselves 
through  its  still,  clear  Avaters,  manifested  dissatisfac- 
tion rather  than  pleasure  at  the  announcement,  al- 
ready anticipated  by  her,  of  her  friend's  contemplated 
marriage. 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  DONA  MANOLITA.       59 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  ? "  exclaimed  Dofia 
Manolita.  "  Are  you  sorry  that  I  am  going  to  be  mar- 
ried ?  The  informal  manner  of  my  engagement  does 
not  please  you,  perhaps.  You  do  not  understand  the 
question,  simpleton.  Do  you  not  see  that  this  barba- 
rian, this  egoist  of  a  Pepe  Gueto,  fancies — and  not 
without  reason — that  he  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and  all 
the  anger  he  has  cherished,  and  still  cherishes  toward 
me,  is  based  upon  the  fact  that  he  had  set  his  mind 
upon  my  falling  in  love  with  him  for  his  gravity  and 
seriousness,  and  taking,  myself,  to  sighing  and  crying 
without  any  thought  of  amusement  or  pleasure  or 
anything  but  him  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  he  is  in  love 
with  me,  and  that  all  his  anger  is  because  he  does  not 
think  me  equally  in  love  with  him,  or  capable  of 
being  so,  because  I  do  not  make  grimaces  and  annoy 
every  one  with  my  tears  and  my  sentimentalities  ? 
And  do  you  not  understand,  finally,  that  I  am  in  love 
with  him?  Otherwise,  would  I  marry  him?  Once 
married,  when  my  natural  shjmess  with  him  shall  have 
worn  off,  I  will  show  him  my  affection,  and  he  shall 
learn  what  a  treasure  there  is  of  it  in  my  soul,  al- 
though hidden  under  an  appearance  of  levity  and 
frivolity.  And  when  he  sees  this  treasure  and  appre- 
ciates it  and  knows  that  it  is  his,  and  more  precious 
than  he  conld  ever  have  imagined  it  to  be,  he  will  see 
that  my  heart  is  not  made  of  cork,  but  of  honey  and 
sugar,  and  he  will  become  as  sweet  as  honey  and  sugar 


60  D05fA  LUZ. 

himself,  and  he  will  langh  and  dance  for  joy,  declar- 
ing and  confessing  that  gayety  of  heart  is  compatible 
with  true  love,  and  laughter  with  the  deepest  and 
truest  happiness." 

Dofla  Luz,  smiling  and  sighing  at  the  same  time, 
answered  thus : 

"  My  sadness  did  not  spring  from  any  doubts  con- 
cerning your  future,  but  from  my  own  selfish  feelings, 
which  in  the  end,  however,  I  shall  learn  to  conquer. 
I  foresee  that  you  will  be  happy,  and  this  rejoices  me ; 
but  I  am  jealous  of  your  friendship.  Why  should  I 
not  confess  it  ?  The  only  person  whom  I  have  ad- 
mitted to  my  heart,  to  whom  I  have  little  by  little 
given  my  affection  is  yourself.  You  have  repaid  me 
with  usury,  I  know,  but  you  are  now  going  to  have  a 
husband ;  soon,  perhaps,  you  will  have  children,  and 
all  your  affections  will  be  centered  on  them.  Poor  I 
will  be  left  alone  in  the  world,  without  a  soul  to  un- 
derstand or  love  me." 

Dofla  Manolita  tenderly  embraced  Dofla  Luz,  and 
answered  her  in  the  following  words : 

"  Even  if  I  had  not  a  thousand  other  reasons  to 
rejoice  at  my  approaching  marriage,  I  should  rejoice 
now,  because  it  has  made  you  declare  your  friendship 
for  me  in  the  most  explicit  manner  and  in  a  way  you 
have  never  done  before.  It  fills  me  with  pride  and 
happiness  tliat  you  should  value  my  friendship  so 
highly.    Do  not  fear  that  either  Pepe  Giieto  or  the 


THE  FRIENDSHIP  OF  DOSfA  MANOLITA.      61 

little  Giietos  who  may  make  their  appearance  in  the 
future  will  rob  you  of  the  profound  affection  I  enter- 
tain for  you.  What !  Do  you  suppose  that  the  com- 
partment, spot,  or  corner  in  my  soul  in  which  is  situ- 
ated my  affection  as  a  wife  and  mother  was  empty 
before,  and  is  now  going  to  be  filled  ?  Do  you  not 
think  this  love  existed  in  my  heart  before  I  loved 
Pepe  Giieto  ?  Most  assuredly  it  did.  Only  the  lover 
or  husband  to  whom  I  had  consecrated  it  was  an 
ideal,  a  being  made  to  order,  full  of  impossible  per- 
fections. The  children  I  dreamed  of,  and  whom  I 
still  dream  of,  are  little  cherubim.  No  matter  how 
great  the  merits  of  Pepe  Giieto,  you  may  be  sure  he 
will  be  a  hundred  leagues  removed  from  the  husband 
I  have  dreamed  of.  And  as  for  the  children,  the  dif- 
ference will  be  still  greater,  for  those  I  may  have — if 
I  should  have  any,  which  I  hope  and  desire  may  be 
the  case — will  not  be  impeccable  and  celestial,  as  I 
pictured  them  to  myself,  but  fretful,  mischievous, 
dirty,  and  headstrong,  making  me  angry  a  thousand 
times  a  day,  and  quarreling  a  thousand  times  a  day 
among  themselves,  all  which  will  tend  to  diminish  my 
affection  for  them.  Consequently,  married  and  with 
children,  I  shall  love  you  more  than  I  have  done  un- 
married, if  you  continue  loving  me.  If  you  were  to 
marry  would  you  cease  to  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  cease  to  love  you,"  answered  Dofla 
Luz.     "  I  shall  never  marry." 


62  dojJa  luz. 

This  latter  affirmation  greatly  excited  the  curiosity 
and  awakened  the  interest  of  Manolita,  and  as  their 
friendship  had  now  reached  its  culminating  point, 
there  followed  various  confidences  and  revelations  on 
the  part  of  Doila  Luz,  in  the  course  of  a  colloquy 
which,  from  its  importance,  deserves  a  separate 
chapter. 


VI. 

THE  CONFIDENCES  OF   DOSA   LUZ. 

It  was  the  doctor's  daughter  who  invited  these 
confidences,  saying  to  Dona  Luz : 

"  And  why  should  you  never  marry  ?  I  do  not 
deny  that  I  regard  it  as  improbable,  but  I  do  not 
think  it  impossible  that  you  should  do  so.  It  is 
improbable,  because  in  the  country  here  there  is  no 
one  worthy  to  be  your  lover,  and  you  are  not  going  to 
Madrid  or  to  any  other  great  city  in  search  of  a  lover. 
It  is  not  suited  to  your  rank  or  your  character  to  go 
in  search  of  an  establishment,  either  living  under 
the  protection  of  some  relation  whose  friendly  offers 
you  have  perhaps  already  repulsed,  or  alone  and  inde- 
pendent now  that  you  are  of  age." 

"  There  is  no  need  for  me  to  answer  your  question," 
said  Doila  Luz ;  "  you  yourself  have  already  done  so. 
Our  friendship  should  to-day  receive  its  confirmation, 


THE  CONFIDENCES  OF  DOSfA  LUZ.  63 

however.  I  wish  to  stamp  it  with  the  seal  of  truth, 
by  laying  open  to  you  my  heart,  and  disclosing  to  you 
all  its  secrets.  I  shall  have  no  fear  that  you  will 
think  me  vain  for  what  I  am  going  to  say,  or  that  it 
will  lessen  your  esteem  for  me.  I  shall  show  myself 
to  you  as  I  am.  I  will  confess  to  you  what  I  have 
never  before  confessed  to  any  one.  This  corner,  this 
spot  in  the  soul  where  you  say  you  have  cherished  the 
love  of  husband  and  children,  I,  too,  have  it  in  my 
soul.  But  a  pride  that  is  not  founded  on  reason,  a 
repugnance  springing  from  the  manner  in  which  I 
have  been  educated  prevent  my  marrying — " 

"  A  second  Pepe  Giieto,  for  instance,"  interrupted 
Manolito. 

"  Pepe  Giieto  is  honorable,  good,  intelligent,  and 
richer  than  I  am,"  replied  Dofla  Luz.  "  I  should  be 
a  fool  to  scorn  a  man  like  him,  if  my  scorn  were 
founded  on  reason  ;  but  these  things  are  not  reasoned 
out;  they  are  felt,  and  the  fact  is  that  no  man  in 
Pepe  Giieto's  circumstances  would  desire  me  for  a 
wife,  as  I,  on  my  side,  would  not  desire  such  a  man 
for  a  husband.  Understand  that  I  speak  now  from  a 
common-sense  point  of  view,  merely,  putting  romance 
altogether  out  of  the  question.  This,  indeed,  might 
work  such  a  miracle  that  not  merely  a  man  like  Pepe 
Giieto,  but  the  lowest  day  laborer,  might  raise  his 
eyes  to  me  with  a  reasonable  hope  of  obtaining  me 
for  his  wife,  and  I  should  accept  his  proposals  and 


64  DOSfA  LUZ. 

marry  him,  even  were  I,  not  to  say  the  daughter  of  a 
ruined  marquis,  but  a  princess  and  a  millionaire. 
Fortunately,  or  unfortunately,  either  those  beings 
with  gifts  and  qualities  superior  to  their  station  do 
not  exist,  proving  that  Nature  has  made  men  more 
equal  than  is  generally  supposed,  or  that,  if  there  are 
such  beings,  they  are  not  destined  for  me,  or  that  I 
am  not  gifted  with  sufficient  imagination  to  endow 
some  one  who  does  not  possess  them  with  all  those 
charms  which  should  cause  me  to  fall  in  love  with 
him.  Thus  it  is  that  the  potency  of  love  is  dormant 
in  my  soul,  as  it  were,  but  not  dead.  God  forbid  that 
I  should  destroy  any  faculty  in  my  soul  with  which 
he  himself  has  endowed  me. !  Love  sleeps  in  my 
heart.  It  is  the  part  of  my  reason,  serene  and  cold, 
to  see  that  no  one  awakens  it  but  him  who  has  the 
right  to  do  so.  But  thus  far  no  one  has  come  to 
awaken  it,  and  I  fear  that  its  sleep  is  destined  to  be 
eternal." 

"  Well,"  said  Manolita,  "  I  am  sorry  for  a  foolish 
remark  I  made  just  now.  What  would  there  be 
unseemly  or  wrong  in  your  going  where  you  would 
be  seen  and  admired  in  order  that  some  one  wor- 
thy of  you  should  come  to  awaken  that  precious 
love  that  sleeps  in  your  breast  ?  I  almost  think  that 
you  would  not  only  be  right  in  doing  so,  but  that  it 
would  be  your  duty  to  do  so.  It  is  not  just  that  so 
much  beauty  (and  that  you  are  beautiful  no  one  can 


THE  CONFIDENCES  OP  DOSfA  LUZ.  65 

deny),  it  is  not  right  that  so  much  distinction  and 
elegance  should  remain  buried  in  a  country  town.  It 
is  cruel  that  so  great  a  treasure  of  affection  should 
sleep  away  its  existence,  grow  old,  and  perhaps  in  the 
end  have  its  wings  moth-eaten.  There  are,  doubtless, 
a  thousand  handsome  lovers  in  the  great  world  ready 
to  fall  at  your  feet  and  worship  you  if  they  could 
only  see  you.  Doubtless,  there  will  be  one  among 
them  whom  you  can  love.  But  how  are  they  to  guess 
that  you  are  here?  Why  should  you  play  at  hide- 
and-seek  with  them  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,  because  in  seeking  for  romance 
I  must  not  begin  by  destroying  romance.  Love  is  not 
to  be  sought ;  it  must  appear  suddenly,  it  must  flash 
upon  the  sight  as  if  it  came  down  from  heaven. 
Fortune  may  be  sought,  adventures  may  be  sought, 
business  may  be  sought,  and,  as  you  just  now  said,  an 
establishment  may  be  sought,  but  love  is  not  to  be 
sought.  And,  then,  where  should  I  go  that  I  should 
not  feel  myself  less  at  home  and  more  isolated  than 
in  Villafria  ?  Where  should  I  present  myself  that  I 
would  not  be  looked  upon  as  an  adventuress?  My 
relations  would  try  to  humiliate  me  if  I  were  to  live 
with  them.  If  I  lived  alone  people  would  say,  with 
Don  Acisclo,  that  I  was  like  *  a  cow  strayed  from  the 
herd.'  I  might,  if  I  had  so  desired,  be  a  marchioness, 
and  I  am  not,  nor  do  I  wish  to  be  one,  because  a 
title  without  means  to  support  it  is  ridiculous.    Here, 


,66  doRa  luz. 

where  everybody  knows  me,  I  am  the  *  Sefiorita  Dofia 
Luz,'  the  '  little  marchioness,'  who  still  preserves  her 
ancestral  home,  and  who  is  universally  esteemed  and 
respected,  for  every  one  knows  what  her  life  has  been 
for  the  last  twelve  years.  In  that  outside  world  I 
should  be  a  somewhat  mysterious  Dofla  Luz,  of  whom 
everybody  would  imagine  a  thousand  horrible  things. 
They  would  begin  by  making  one  true  statement  in 
order  to  build  upon  it  a  thousand  false  ones.  The 
truth  would  be  that  I  am  the  daughter  of  a  dissipated 
and  ruined  marquis  and  of  a  certain  Antonia  Gutier- 
rez, a  seamstress,  with  whom  my  father  fell  in  love. 
Believe  me,  in  no  place  could  I  be  better  situated 
than  here,  although  I  may  be  fated  never  to  fall  in 
love  or  to  marry.  Why  should  love  lie  always  sleep- 
ing? I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  there  are  not 
different  kinds  of  love,  each  with  its  particular  object, 
but  that  love  is  one,  and  although  its  object  may 
change,  love  itself  does  not  change.  If  this  be  the 
case,  as  I  hope  it  is,  my  love  will  awake  one  day  and 
expend  its  force  on  the  beauty  of  heaven,  on  God 
who  created  it,  on  the  flowers,  on  poetry,  and,  who 
knows,  but  even  on  science,  provided  that  my  narrow 
woman's  brain  be  large  enough  to  admit  a  knowledge 
of  its  great  truths,  its  obscure  mysteries,  and  its  awe- 
inspiring  problems." 

"I  do  not  know  what  answer  to  make  you,"  re- 
sponded  Dolla  Manolita.     "I  see  that  in  much  of 


THE  CONFIDENCES  OF  D05fA  LUZ.  67 

what  you  say  you  are  right,  but  since  you  have  con- 
fided in  me  and  laid  bare  to  me  the  hidden  recesses  of 
your  soul,  gratify  my  curiosity  on  one  point — explain 
to  me,  if  you  can,  certain  things  that  seem  to  me 
extraordinary  in  your  existence.  No  matter  how  im- 
provident, how  careless,  your  father  might  have  been, 
however  few  the  relations  and  friends  he  might  have 
had  in  the  world,  was  there  no  one  to  whom  he  could 
confide  you  but  Don  Acisclo  ?  You  yourself,  who 
had  lived  for  fourteen  years  in  Madrid,  had  you  there 
no  friend  ?  Was  there  no  one  there  Avho  would  have 
taken  an  interest  in  your  fate  ?  " 

"The  carelessness  and  the  improvidence  of  my 
father  could  not  have  been  greater  than  they  were. 
This  is  sufficiently  proved  by  his  ruin ;  but,  in  addi- 
tion to  this,  it  will  be  enough  for  me,  linking  together 
the  disconnected  recollections  of  my  childhood,  to 
describe  to  you  my  mode  of  life  in  Madrid  in  order 
to  make  it  plain  to  you  that  the  best,  perhaps  the  only 
thing  my  father  could  have  done,  was  to  confide  me 
to  the  care  of  Don  Acisclo.  Until  I  had  completed 
my  fifth  year  I  lived  in  the  house  of  a  lady  who 
appeared  to  be  in  comfortable  circumstances,  called 
Dofla  Francisca.  I  have  since  thouglit  of  the  possi- 
bility of  this  lady  being  my  mother;  but,  although 
she  treated  me  indeed  with  kindness  and  even  with 
indulgence,  it  was  evident,  or  must  then  have  seemed 
BO  to  me.  Judging  by  my  confused  recollections,  that  I 


68  .  doJJa  luz. 

was  a  stranger  to  her.  She  kept  me  in  her  house  as 
a  favor.  She  was  unmarried.  A  handsome  man,  a 
friend  of  my  father's,  came  to  see  her  with  frequency. 
My  father  came  to  see  me,  sometimes  alone,  some- 
times in  the  company  of  the  gentleman  I  have  men- 
tioned. The  lady  died,  and  my  father  then  took  me 
to  his  house,  keeping  me  always  with  him  until  his 
death.  A  few  months  after  I  had  entered  my  father's 
house,  where  an  elderly  woman  servant  took  care  of 
me,  the  governess  for  whom  my  father  had  sent  came 
from  England  and  remained  with  me  until  a  few 
days  previously  to  our  leaving  Madrid  for  Villafria." 

Dofia  Manolita,  who  was  one  of  the  best  creatures 
in  the  world,  and  who  both  loved  and  admired  Dona 
Luz,  greatly  pleased  with  the  confidence  of  the  latter 
and  very  much  interested  in  her  story,  had  listened 
to  all  this,  seated  in  front  of  her  friend,  without  so 
much  as  winking  an  eyelash. 

The  latter  continued : 

"My  governess  was  duty  personified,  but,  like 
duty,  without  warmth,  without  enthusiasm,  and  with- 
out affection.  I  am  almost  inclined  to  affirm  that 
she  never  kissed  me,  never  bestowed  a  caress  upon 
me.  In  exchange,  she  taught  me  all  she  knew,  and 
my  father  regarded  me  as  a  wonder  of  precocity — an 
infant  prodigy  of  learning. 

"  The  life  of  my  father,  although  I  did  not  know 
it  at  the  time,  I  know  now  to  have  been  extremely 


THE  CONFIDENCES  OF  DONA  LUZ.  69 

dissipated,  and  the  very  reverse  of  exemplary.  He 
played,  indulged  in  excesses  of  all  kinds,  and  re- 
mained out  every  night  till  three  or  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  I  was  his  refuge,  as  it  were — his  means 
of  purification,  his  sacred  consolation  in  his  moments 
of  dejection  and  sadness.  He  would  call  me  to  his 
room,  and,  shut  in  there  with  me,  would  caress  me, 
kiss  me,  and,  at  times,  weep  over  me.  Young  as  I 
was,  I  could  neither  myself  discover,  nor  could  I  ask 
him  to  tell  me  the  cause  of  his  sadness. 

"  Many  times  since  my  father's  death  I  have 
sought  eagerly  among  his  papers  for  something  that 
might  throw  a  light  upon  the  mj^stery  of  my  birth,  but 
in  vain.  He  had  the  habit  of  tearing  up  such  of  his 
letters  as  possessed  any  special  interest,  for  he  was 
careless,  and  feared  to  leave  them  where  they  might 
be  read  by  others.  The  result  of  my  search  was  un- 
important —  neither  likeness  nor  letter,  only  this 
locket  found  upon  his  person  after  his  death,  but 
which  bears  neither  crest  nor  cipher  that  might  af- 
ford a  clew  to  the  mystery." 

At  the  same  time,  Dofia  Luz  drew  from  her  bosom 
the  locket  of  which  she  spoke. 

"  Since  then  I  have  worn  the  locket  as  a  souvenir 
of  my  father.  Inside,  as  you  will  see  "  (and,  opening 
the  locket,  she  showed  its  contents  to  Dofia  Manolita), 
"  behind  the  glass,  is  a  lock  of  hair  fairer  than  mine. 
Did  it  belong  to  my  mother,  or  to  some  one  else  in 


70  DOSfA  LUZ. 

whom  I  have  no  concern  ?  Who  can  say  ?  The  tivo 
servants  of  my  father,  whom  I  still  keep,  are  both  of 
them  intelligent,  but  they  both  entered  my  father's 
service  long  after  I  was  born,  and  it  is  certain  that 
they  know  nothing.  Juana  came  to  wait  upon  me 
when  I  was  ten  years  old.  Three  years  afterward 
Tomas  entered  my  father's  service  as  his  valet." 

"  And  did  nothing  ever  occur  during  your  father's 
lifetime  which  might  serve  to  clear  up  the  mystery 
of  your  birth  ?  "  asked  Dofia  Manolita. 

"  A  singular  occurrence  did  take  place  during  my 
father's  lifetime,  when  I  was  two  years  old,"  replied 
Dofia  Luz,  "but  an  occurrence  of  so  mysterious  a 
nature  that  nothing  can  with  certainty  be  inferred 
from  it.  It  might  or  might  not  have  had  some  con- 
nection with  that  event." 

"  And  what  was  this  occurrence,  if  I  may  ask  the 
question  ?  " 

"  One  morning  my  father  received  a  visit  from 
a  mysterious  stranger  whom  he  himself  admitted. 
There  was  no  reason  for  the  servants  to  be  surprised 
at  this.  My  father  was  accustomed  to  receive  visitors 
in  this  way,  opening  the  door  for  them  himself  and 
shutting  himself  into  his  room  with  them.  On  the 
morning  in  question,  about  half  an  hour  after  the 
arrival  of  his  visitor,  the  bell  in  my  father's  room 
was  rung  violently.  The  door  of  the  room  was  open. 
The  visitor   had  disappeared.      The   servants  found 


THE  CONFIDENCES  OF  DONA  LUZ.  71 

my  father  lying  stretched  upon  the  floor,  his  breast 
pierced  by  an  apparently  mortal  wound,  a  sword 
grasped  in  his  hand,  another  sword,  stained  with 
blood,  lying  beside  him.  They  said  it  was  only  by  a 
miracle  that  his  life  was  saved.  It  was  never  discov- 
ered why  or  by  whom  he  had  been  wounded.  My 
father  refused  to  say  more  than  that  his  adversary 
was  not  to  be  pursued ;  that  the  wound  had  been  re- 
ceived in  honorable  combat.  A  strange  duel,  indeed, 
to  take  place  without  seconds  or  witnesses,  and  with- 
out any  one  ever  learning  anything  further  about  it 
than  its  almost  tragic  ending ! " 

"  All  this  leads  me  to  suppose,"  said  Dofia  Mano- 
lita,  "  that  you  are  the  daughter  of  some  great  lady." 

"  I  do  not  know,"  answered  Dofia  Luz.  "  Before 
the  law  I  am  the  daughter  of  Antonia  Gutierrez,  free 
when  she  united  herself  to  my  father.  And  it  is 
better  that  my  father  should  have  told  me  nothing. 
•How  could  he  have  sullied  the  innocent  mind  of  a 
girl  of  fifteen  by  such  confidences  ?  My  mind  was 
already  sufficiently  disturbed  by  the  catastrophe  at 
Madrid  before  we  took  refuge  here.  We  were  obliged 
to  sell  all  the  furniture  we  had  there  in  order  to  make 
up  the  sum  necessary  to  pay  the  demands  of  the 
money  lenders  and  the  creditors.  My  father  came 
here  humiliated  and  dejected,  and  a  short  time  after- 
ward he  died.  "With  whom  could  I  have  returned  to 
Madrid  ?    What  role  should  the  beggared  marchioness 


72  DOl^A  LUZ. 

play  in  Madrid  ?  The  best  thing  possible  for  me  to 
do  was  what  I  have  done — to  make  my  home  here." 

Thus  did  Dofla  Luz  confide  all  her  secrets  to  the 
physician's  daughter. 

The  friendship  of  both  the  young  women  became 
closer  from  this  time  forth,  and  neither  ever  after- 
ward had  a  secret  from  the  other. 

The  marriage  of  Dofia  Manolita  was  celebrated 
with  all  possible  haste.  A  month  after  she  had  com- 
municated the  news  of  her  engagement  to  her  friend 
she  was  married. 

Her  prediction  that  her  marriage  would  cause  no 
diminution  in  her  friendship  for  Dofla  Luz  was  ful- 
filled to  the  letter.  Dofla  Manolita  was  a  good  proph- 
etess. 

What  she  had  foretold  with  regard  to  Pepe  Giieto 
was  also  fulfilled.  He  made  no  attempt  to  correct 
her  vivacity,  nor  did  she  become  more  serious  than 
she  had  been  before  her  marriage ;  but,  in  exchange, 
Pepe  Giieto  laughed  like  a  fool,  especially  at  his 
wife's  jests,  which  amused  him  greatly,  and  at  her 
laughter,  which  he  found  pleasantly  contagious. 

Meantime  the  days  passed  for  Dofia  Luz  without 
anything  to  break  their  monotony  except  the  changes 
of  the  seasons.  Spring  passed,  summer  passed,  and 
the  month  of  October,  the  time  of  the  vintage,  ar- 
rived. 

Don  Acisclo  must  have  had  some  very  important 


FATHER  ENRIQUE.  73 

piece  of  news  to  communicate  to  Dofia  Luz  to  cause 
him,  engaged  as  he  was  in  the  vintage,  to  visit  her 
in  her  apartments  one  morning,  at  as  early  an  hour 
as  Dofla  Manolita  had  done  some  months  before. 

The  mail  arrived  in  Villafria  late  at  night  and  was 
distributed  at  daybreak. 

Don  Acisclo  held  in  his  hand  an  open  letter  which 
he  was  waving  about  with  lively  manifestations  of 
satisfaction  and  delight. 


VII. 

FATHER   ENRIQUE. 


"What  has  happened,  Don  Acisclo?  "What  says 
your  letter  ?  What  good  news  may  it  contain  ?  Have 
you  drawn  a  prize  in  the  lottery  ?  "  asked  Dofla  Luz, 

"  Better  than  that,  child,  better  than  that,"  answered 
Don  Acisclo.  "  Read  it  yourself,  and  you  will  see," 
and  he  handed  the  letter  to  Dofla  Luz. 

The  latter  at  once  recognized  both  the  handwriting 
and  the  signature — "  Enrique."  It  was  from  a  nephew 
of  Don  Acisclo,  the  son  of  a  deceased  sister,  a  Domini- 
can friar  who  had  resided  for  some  years  past  in  the 
Philippine  Islands. 

As  a  general  thing  people  who  become  rich  by 
their  own  eiforts  refuse  to  believe  in  chance,  fate,  des- 


74  DOSfA  LUZ. 

'  tiny,  or  luck ;  these  seem  to  them  unmeaning  words 
behind  which  laziness,  extravagance,  recklessness,  and 
folly  strive  to  screen  themselves.  And  for  this  reason 
they  regard  themselves  as  the  most  prudent,  rational, 
ingenious,  and  wise  persons  on  the  face  of  the  globe. 
And  it  may  be  that  they  are  in  the  right.  I  neither 
deny  nor  affirm  this  to  be  the  case.  All  I  wish  to  say 
is  that  such  was  Don  Acisclo's  way  of  thinking.  He 
was  very  well  satisfied  with  himself,  and  thought  there 
was  no  one  who  possessed  greater  merit  than  he  did. 
Every  other  species  of  glory  seemed  to  him  of  less 
value  than  his  own  and  of  an  inferior  quality.  Never- 
theless, a  species  of  glory  that  had  something  super- 
natural and  ultramundane,  if  not  in  the  means  em- 
ployed, at  least  in  the  end  to  be  attained,  and  which 
had  been  acquired  by  a  member  of  his  own  family, 
seemed  to  Don  Acisclo  to  be  of  no  slight  value  either ; 
and  such  was  the  glory  of  his  nephew  Father  Enrique, 
a  glory  which  in  a  certain  sense  was  shared  by  him- 
self and  all  the  family.  It  was,  almost  as  much  as 
the  wealth  he  had  acquired,  a  patent  of  nobility  for 
the  family. 

Don  Acisclo,  then,  idolized  Father  Enrique.  He 
would  say,  with  complacent  pride,  in  speaking  of  him  : 
*'  In  our  family  we  can  turn  our  hands  to  anything — 
to  sweeping  as  well  as  to  scrubbing.  I  Avanted  to  be- 
come a  millionaire  and  I  am  one.  Enrique  had  a 
fancy  for  a  holy  life,  and  we  shall  one  day  see  him 


FATHER  ENRIQUE.  '^S 

eminent  in  his  calling."  In  order  to  prove  the  truth 
of  his  opinion  and  to  justify  his  prediction,  Don  Acis- 
clo  would  often  relate  some  of  the  adventures  of  Father 
Enrique,  so  that  Dofia  Luz  had  come  to  regard  the 
priest  as  an  acquaintance  and  friend,  although  he  had 
not  been  in  the  town,  or  even  in  Europe,  for  the  last 
twenty  years. 

He  had  not  spent  all  these  years  in  Manila,  however. 
He  had  visited  various  heathen  lands,  diffusing  there 
the  light  of  the  Gospel;  he  had  suffered  almost  in- 
credible hardships ;  he  had  braved  great  dangers,  and 
had  once  come  near  meeting  the  glorious  death  of  a 
martyr,  escaping  with  his  life  only  after  cruel  and 
prolonged  sufferings. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  the  details  of  these  ad- 
ventures as  related  by  Don  Acisclo  had  something 
grotesque  in  them.  Fortunately,  Father  Enrique 
wrote  to  his  uncle  three  or  four  times  a  year,  and  his 
uncle  took  delight  in  hearing  Dofia  Luz  read  these 
letters  aloud.  In  this  way  Dofia  Luz  had  learned 
that  Father  Enrique,  in  addition  to  being  brave  to 
heroism  and  enthusiastic  and  fervid  in  all  his  apos- 
tolic enterprises  and  acts,  was  a  man  of  clear  intelli- 
gence and  singular  prudence  and  discretion. 

His  physical  strength  was  far  from  being  equal  to 
his  spiritual  energy,  and  although  he  was  only  forty 
years  old,  in  his  later  letters  he  had  complained  gently 
of  the  broken  state  of  his  health,  which  prevented 


Y6  DOSfA  LUZ. 

his  engaging  in  active  enterprises  and  even  inters 
fered  to  some  extent  with  his  studies. 

The  letter  just  received  was  very  short  and  was 
written  from  Cadiz.  Dofia  Luz  read  it  aloud.  It 
was  as  follows : 

"My  dear  uxcle:  My  health  had  become  so 
seriously  impaired  in  Manila  that  the  physicians 
there  decided  that  it  would  be  necessary  for  me  to 
return  to  Europe  for  a  prolonged  stay.  They  assured 
me  that  my  native  air  would  completely  re-establish 
my  health.  My  companions  insisted  upon  my  leav- 
ing the  country,  and  the  archbishop  himself  ordered 
me  to  make  the  Journey.  Consequently  there  was  no 
alternative.  I  left  Manila,  and,  thanks  to  God,  had 
a  prosperous  voyage.  I  have  now  been  in  Cadiz  for 
three  days,  and  already  feel  much  stronger.  The  day 
after  to-morrow  I  shall  take  the  train  for  Villafria. 
I  send  affectionate  remembrances  to  my  cousins,  my 
other  relations  and  my  friends,  and  to  your  guest,  the 
Sefiorita  Dofia  Luz. 

"  Your  affectionate  nephew,  who  loves  you  and 
desires  to  embrace  you." 

Such  was  the  cause  of  Don  Acisclo's  delight.  He 
was  going  to  embrace  his  saintly  nephew,  he  was 
going  to  live  with  him,  he  was  going  to  have  the 
pleasure  of  showing  him  off  before  the  admiring 
towns-people. 


FATHER  ENRIQUE.  77 

DoQa  Luz  at  once  proposed  to  remove  to  her  own 
house  and  resign  her  apartments  in  the  house  of  Don 
Acisclo  to  his  nephew. 

To  this  proposition,  however,  Don  Acisclo  an- 
swered : 

"  By  no  means,  child.  On  no  account  would  I  al- 
low you  to  leave  my  house  to  go  and  live  in  that  great 
empty  house  alone ;  besides,  so  hasty  a  removal  would 
upset  my  plans.  I  have  a  project  which,  with  your 
permission,  we  will  put  into  execution.  I  know  that 
Enrique  likes  solitude,  that  he  may  study  and  medi- 
tate undisturbed.  Allow  him  to  live  in  your  house ; 
we  can  prepare  a  few  rooms  there  for  him  in  no  time. 
Your  house  is  close  at  hand.  "We  "can  go  there  to 
take  care  of  him  if  he  should  fall  ill,  and  as  long  as 
he  is  well  he  will  come  to  breakfast  and  dine  and 
chat  with  us  every  day." 

Dofia  Luz  persisted  in  her  wish  to  go  to  her  own 
house;  but,  as  Don  Acisclo  continued  to  oppose  it, 
she  at  last  yielded  and  cordially  placed  her  house  at 
Father  Enrique's  disposal. 

The  railway  station  is  two  good  leagues  distant 
from  Villafria,  and  Don  Acisclo  arranged  that  the 
family  and  friends  should  go  there  to  receive  Father 
Enrique  with  much  pomp.  In  effect,  there  was  not  a 
vehicle  in  the  town  which  they  did  not  press  into  the 
service.  There  were  three  gigs,  a  covered  wagon  (the 
property  of  Don  Acisclo),  and  two  carts.    The  expo- 


Y8  DOSfA  LUZ. 

dition  was  composed  of  the  sons  and  sons-in-law,  the 
daughters  and  daughters-in-law  of  Don  Acisclo,  the 
parish  priest,  the  doctor,  Dona  Luz,  Dofia  Manolita 
and  Pepe  Gueto,  and  various  other  persons.  Those 
for  whom  there  was  no  room  in  the  vehicles  went  on 
horseback  or  on  donkeys. 

Father  Enrique  arrived  safely  and  was  received 
with  acclamations  by  all  the  crowd  on  the  platform 
of  the  railway  station. 

His  entrance  to  the  town  was  a  triumph. 

He  had  brought  presents  for  every  member  of 
the  family — for  the  men,  abundance  of  cigars  from 
the  Philippine  Islands;  for  the  women,  embroidered 
shawls,  such  as  in  my  native  place  are  called  "  crape 
shawls"  and  "Manila  shawls"  in  Madrid,  and  ex- 
quisite Chinese  fans ;  for  Don  Acisclo  he  brought 
Japanese  weapons ;  and  for  Dofla  Luz  a  set  of  ivory 
chessmen  elaborately  carved. 

Father  Enrique  established  himself  very  comfort- 
ably and  quietly  in  the  house  of  the  marquises  of 
Villafria,  where  Tomas  offered  to  wait  upon  him; 
but  Father  Enrique  had  brought  with  him  a  Chinese 
servant  named  Ramon,  who  attended  to  his  wants 
with  the  utmost  solicitude. 


FATHER  ENRIQUE'S  MANNER  OF  LIFE.       79 

VIII. 
FATHER  ElfRIQUE'S  MA2fN"ER   OF  LIFE   IK  THE  TOWK. 

When"  the  great  event  of  Father  Enrique's  arrival 
had  taken  place ;  when  there  was  no  one  in  the  town 
who  had  not  satisfied  his  curiosity  regarding  the 
priest's  appearance ;  when  every  one  had  heard  him 
preach  in  the  town  church  and  found  that  his  ser- 
mons were  no  more  eloquent  than  those  of  other 
priests,  but  only  easier  to  understand,  plainer,  simpler, 
and  with  fewer  unintelligible  words ;  and  when  it  was 
known  that  he  neither  related  spicy  anecdotes  nor 
played  billiards  nor  maliUa^  nor  was  more  entertain- 
ing than  any  one  else,  all  Villafria  returned  once  more 
to  its  normal  condition. 

Like  a  stone  dropped  into  the  depths  of  a  lake, 
which  troubles  the  surface  of  the  water  for  a  time, 
making  ever-widening  circles  which  presently  dis- 
appear, and  all  is  once  more  tranquil  as  before,  and 
the  stone  is  forgotten,  so  was  it  with  Father  Enrique 
after  he  had  been  three  months  in  Villafria. 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  he  courted  obscurity.  If 
he  performed  works  of  charity  as  far  as  his  limited 
means  would  allow,  it  was  so  secretly  that  no  one  was 
aware  of  it ;  if,  moved  thereto  by  pity  or  a  sense  of 
duty,  he  gave  any  one  advice,  he  did  so  with  so  much 
simplicity,  citing  so  few  texts  and  authorities  in  sup- 


80  DOSfA  LUZ. 

port  of  his  opinions,  that  no  one  paid  any  heed  to  it, 
and  there  were  even  some  who  thought  him  incapable 
of  giving  advice  requiring  any  nicety  of  judgment, 
accustomed  as  he  had  been  to  live  among  the  savages 
in  the  Indies. 

In  short,  Father  Enrique  either  did  not  know  how 
to  do  so  or  did  not  care  to  make  himself  popular. 
He  afforded  one  more  instance  of  the  truth  of  the 
scriptural  saying,  "A  prophet  is  not  without  honor 
save  in  his  own  country."  It  might  also  be  said  of 
him,  if  it  be  allowable  to  compare  earthly  things 
with  heavenly,  "  He  was  among  his  own  and  they 
knew  him  not." 

He  did  not  go  to  the  casino,  he  did  not  frequent 
the  reunions  at  the  apothecary's,  he  knew  nothing  of 
politics,  he  did  not  visit  the  devout  ladies  of  the 
town — in  a  word,  every  one  declared  that  he  was  abso- 
lutely good  for  nothing. 

He  said  mass  daily,  and  then  generally  shut  him- 
self up  in  the  "  great  house  of  the  marquis,"  as  it  was 
called,  where  he  was  always  poring  over  books  and 
documents,  now  writing,  now  reading — things  in 
which  no  one  else  in  the  town  took  any  interest 
whatever. 

As  the  people  of  Villafria  were  very  liberal  and 
advanced  in  their  ideas,  many  of  them  accused  Eather 
Enrique  of  being  a  hyprocrite,  a  Carlist,  and  of  be- 
longing to  the  "  new  party,"  while  the  real  adherents 


FATHER  ENRIQUE'S  MANNER  OF  LIFE.       81 

of  the  "  new  party,"  on  their  side,  and  the  Carlists, 
of  whom  there  were  also  some  in  Villafria,  looked 
with  contempt  npon  the  priest  whom  they  could 
make  no  use  of,  and  who  entered  into  no  confidences, 
or  rather  who  had  no  confidences  into  which  to  enter 
with  them. 

Fortunately,  Father  Enrique  was  so  amiable  that 
he  was  incapable  of  inspiring  hatred,  and  so  silent 
and  modest  that  he  did  not  arouse  envy.  In  the 
end  his  towns-people  forgot  that  he  was  in  exist- 
ence— a  species  of  f orgetfulness  that  is  by  no  means 
rare. 

Only  when  he  was  among  his  most  intimate 
friends — a  few  choice  spirits — and  some  others,  who,  if 
they  were  not  his  admirers,  allowed  themselves  to  be 
carried  away  by  the  admiration  of  those  who  were, 
was  Father  Enrique's  tongue  gently  loosened,  and 
entertaining  narrations,  sublime  discourses,  beautiful 
thoughts,  and  noble  sentiments  flowed  from  his  elo- 
quent lips  and  penetrated  the  hearts  and  minds  of 
his  few  auditors,  or  rather  of  his  few  interlocutors, 
for  the  priest  avoided  as  far  as  was  possible  monopo- 
lizing the  conversation,  in  which  he  preferred  that  all 
should  take  part. 

His  interlocutors  were  Dofia  Luz,  Dofia  Manolita, 
the  doctor,  Pepe  Giieto,  occasionally  the  parish  priest, 
and  Don  Acisclo  always. 

When  there  were  other  visitors  at  the  house  of 


82  do5Ja  luz. 

Don  Acisclo — where  these  reunions  took  place — this 
natural  frankness  of  manner  vanished,  and  the  con- 
versation, as  if  by  enchantment  and  inevitably,  de- 
scended to  the  Villafrian  level. 

This  reserve — which  had  its  origin  in  the  peculiar 
genius  of  his  character  and  his  understanding — sprang 
not  from  haughtiness,  but  from  shyness.  With  the 
simple  and  unsophisticated  natives  of  those  distant 
lands  in  which  he  had  lived  he  had  been  able  to  ex- 
press himself  in  so  plain  and  persuasive  a  style  that 
his  unstudied  words,  holy  and  sincere,  had  engraved 
themselves  upon  their  hearts,  carrying  conviction  to 
their  souls.  With  persons  of  learning  and  culture  or 
with  those  who,  on  account  of  their  benevolence,  their 
enthusiasm,  their  deep  poetic  feeling,  or  the  elevation 
of  their  views  or  their  sentiments,  inspired  him  with 
confidence  or  sympathy,  his  eloquence  carried  him 
naturally  and  insensibly  into  the  highest  regions ;  but 
with  certain  persons  of  mediocre  intelligence  with 
pretensions  to  culture,  Father  Enrique  instinctively 
grew  reserved,  feeling  his  lack  of  power  to  influence 
them,  and  he  was  neither  simple  nor  elevated,  he 
neither  moved  the  feelings  by  artless  descriptions  of 
the  emotions  nor  carried  with  him  the  minds  of  his 
hearers  in  his  own  eagle  flights  into  higher  regions. 

Villafria,  a  town  of  very  advanced  ideas,  produced 
this  effect  on  Father  Enrique.  Nothing  could  daunt 
his  heart,  nor  was  there  here  any  reason  for  such 


FATHER  ENRIQUE'S  MANNER  OF  LIFE.       83 

feeling,  but  his  understanding  was  daunted  and  rec- 
ognized its  lack  of  power. 

I  do  not  affirm  the  existence  of  magnetic  influence, 
but  without  using  the  word  literally,  I  may  use  it  in  a 
figurative  sense;  between  his  fellow-townsmen  and 
himself  there  was  no  magnetic  current  whatever. 
The  magnetic  current  existed  only  between  the  priest 
and  the  few  persons  we  have  already  mentioned,  and 
who  during  the  winter  of  1860-'61  gathered  every 
night,  with  scarcely  a  single  exception,  around  Don 
Acisclo's  hearth,  in  the  master's  kitchenj  which  we 
have  already  described. 

In  these  reunions  the  conversation  never  flagged. 
"No  one  talked  more  incessantly  than  Dofla  Manolita, 
whose  amusing  nonsense  made  even  Father  Enrique 
laugh,  notwithstanding  his  gravity.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, without  intending  it,  without  any  desire  to  start 
a  discussion  on  matters  of  a  profounder  nature,  the 
discussion  was  started,  and  then  Don  Acisclo,  Don 
Miguel,  Pepe  Giieto,  and  even  Doua  Manolita  re- 
lapsed into  silence  to  listen  to  Father  Enrique,  Doila 
Luz,  and  Dr.  Anselmo. 

In  these  reunions  absolute  liberty  of  speech  pre- 
vailed, and  the  doctor — who  was  the  invariable  oppo- 
nent of  Father  Enrique — expressed  himself  with  the 
utmost  freedom,  but  as  courtesy,  even  where  it  has 
not  been  bestowed  by  education,  is  a  characteristic  of 
every  generous  soul,  Don  Anselmo  never  forgot,  even 


84  doNa  luz. 

in  his  most  violent  attacks,  to  soften  his  rudeness  by 
clothing  it  in  polished  phrase. 

Under  this  polished  form,  however,  was  evident 
the  radical  negation  of  all  knowledge  which  does  not 
come  by  experience.  Through  faith  we  may  believe 
in  the  supernatural ;  the  imagination  may  create  a  su- 
perior world  of  abstract  and  religious  ideas,  but  Eeason 
can  accept  only  that  which  she  herself — in  virtue  of 
lier  own  laws — deduces  from  the  study  and  observa- 
tion of  the  phenomena  which  she  perceives  by  the 
senses.  This  alone  is  knowledge ;  all  else  is  poetry  or 
whatever  else  you  may  choose  to  call  it.  And  the  first 
principle  of  knowledge,  in  Don  Anselmo's  opinion, 
was  that  there  is  an  infinite  substance  which,  by  vir- 
tue of  the  unexplainable  agitation  and  volition  that 
constitute  its  essence,  produces  a  variety  of  beings 
whose  relative  perfection  at  the  present  epoch,  and  as 
far  back  in  the  past  as  the  mind  of  man  can  pene- 
trate and  as  far  forward  in  the  future  as  his  presci- 
ence can  foresee,  is  constantly  becoming  greater, 
owing  to  a  certain  upward  process  and  evolution  ap- 
parently without  end.  How  this  began  and  how  it 
will  terminate,  Don  Anselmo  maintained,  we  do  not 
know,  nor  can  we  ever  know.  It  was  idle,  in  his  opin- 
ion, to  seek  to  penetrate  beyond  this,  to  discover 
whether  before  this  evolution  there  was  another  evo- 
lution, whether  after  it  all  will  return  to  repose  and 
death  ;  and  whether  at  some  future  time  a  new  desire 


FATHER  ENRIQUE'S  MANNER  OF  LIFE.       85 

and  Yolition  of  atoms  will  take  place,  causing  them  to 
group  themselves  together  and  to  create  another  uni- 
verse and  new  lives  and  progress  and  conscience  and 
what  is  called  spirit,  to  end  in  death  again.  With  re- 
spect to  all  this  the  mind  could  form  only  theories 
and  dreams,  launching  itself  in  its  daring  specula- 
tions beyond  the  limits  and  confines  of  reason. 

And  what  Don  Anselmo  affirmed  of  universal  be- 
ing he  affirmed  also  of  the  life  of  the  indi^^dual. 
During  the  whole  of  this  life,  until  its  termination, 
was  to  be  observed  the  gradual  development  of  the 
individual.  But  Don  Anselmo  sustained  that  of  the 
state  of  being  before  birth  and  after  death  nothing 
could  be  known  with  certainty ;  here  were  two  shad- 
owy gulfs,  two  unfathomable  abysses,  between  which 
life  manifested  itself.  And  these  gulfs,  these  abysses, 
were  overlaid,  as  it  were,  by  substance,  by  matter,  by 
that  which  is  perceived  by  our  senses,  which  we  can 
not  conceive  except  as  possessing  properties  and  forms ; 
which  we  can  conceive  as  changing  its  properties  and 
forms,  but  which,  in  its  essence,  the  human  mind  can 
not  conceive  as  capable  of  being  destroyed.  The  only 
metaphysical  certainty  of  this  enemy  of  metaphysics 
was  the  eternity  of  this  vague  and  undefined  sub- 
stance. This  was  the  only  immutable  substance.  Ev- 
erything else  —  that  is  to  say  its  appearances  and 
transformations,  for  outside  this  there  is  nothing — 
was  perpetual  change  and  ceaseless  fluctuation.    It  is 


86  DOSfA  LUZ. 

evident  that  from  such  a  system  could  result  neither 
morality,  nor  duty,  nor  responsibility,  nor  free  will; 
but  Don  Anselmo,  who  was  a  very  worthy  man  at 
heart,  scarcely  dared  to  acknowledge  so  diabolical  a 
conclusion  to  himself,  and  still  less  to  others,  and  he 
linked  together  a  chain  of  subtleties  to  prove  that 
we  are  free  agents,  that  we  should  seek  after  right- 
eousness, and  that  there  is  a  fixed  principle  in  which 
goodness  consists.  From  this  it  resulted  that  if,  with 
regard  to  the  first-mentioned  questions,  he  held  his 
own  bravely  against  Father  Enrique,  on  the  latter 
practical  points  he  was  always  defeated  and  got  him- 
self inextricably  entangled  in  his  arguments,  to  the 
delight  of  everybody,  and  more  than  any  one  else,  of 
his  daughter  Manolita,  who  one  day  concluded  the 
expression  of  her  satisfaction  at  his  defeat  by  saying : 

"  Forgive  my  unfilial  disrespect,  papa,  but  you  do 
not  know  what  you  are  angling  for  when  you  enter 
into  these  discussions  with  Father  Enrique." 

It  is  true,  indeed,  that  Dofia  Manolita  gave  her 
father  a  couple  of  affectionate  kisses  to  sweeten  this 
wound  to  his  vanity. 

There  were  occasions  on  which  Don  Anselmo  suf- 
fered still  greater  humiliation  and  mortification.  Fa- 
ther Enrique,  at  such  times,  was  himself  obliged  to 
take  the  doctor's  part,  saying  that  the  subject  was  a 
difficult  one,  and  that  whoever  studied  it  earnestly 
and  inspired  by  a  love  for  the  truth,  even  though  he 


FATHER  ENRIQUE'S  MANNER  OF  LIFE.       87 

might  be  mistaken  in  his  conclusions,  deserved  not 
censure  but  praise ;  that  those  who  keep  out  of  the 
water  because  they  can  not  swim  should  not  laugh 
at  those  who,  in  learning  to  swim,  risk  drowning 
themselves;  that  only  he  who  seeks  to  follow  new 
paths  can  go  astray;  and  that  only  he  who  has  the 
ardor  and  the  daring  to  aspire  can  fall  from  a  dan- 
gerous height. 

In  this  way  Dotla  Luz  found  a  powerful  ally  in 
her  perpetual  disputes  with  the  doctor,  whose  invet-" 
erate  positivism  never  yielded  nor  held  out  a  hope  of 
his  conversion,  but  whose  high  opinion  of  the  knowl- 
edge, the  exalted  intelligence,  and  the  goodness  of  the 
priest  increased  every  day. 

If  these  were  the  feelings  of  an  opponent  and  an 
unbeliever,  what  were  the  feelings  of  the  believers,  of 
those  who  entertained  the  same  convictions,  of  those 
on  whose  side  Father  Enrique  so  boldly  and  chival- 
rously did  battle?  Veneration,  enthusiasm,  admira- 
tion for  the  priest  increased  every  day  in  their  hearts, 
and  more  than  in  any  other  in  the  enthusiastic,  lone- 
ly, and  isolated  heart  of  Dofla  Luz. 

She  thought  him  a  model  of  holiness,  a  pattern  of 
all  the  virtues,  and  an  inexhaustible  fount  of  learning. 
When  Father  Enrique  spoke,  she  hung  upon  his 
words,  concentrating  all  her  mind  upon  his  discourse 
lest  she  should  lose  a  single  syllable  of  it,  and  striving 
to  grasp  its  deepest  meaning.    The  desire  for  knowl- 


g8  DOSfA  LUZ. 

edge  awoke  within  her  more  ardently  than  ever  before 
when  she  compared  herself  with  the  priest  and  per- 
ceived how  little  she  knew;  and  although  Father 
Enrique  never  made  any  display  of  his  learning,  she 
led  him  on  to  speak,  putting  to  him  a  thousand  ques- 
tions which  he  was  obliged  to  answer,  however  much 
his  modesty  might  rebel. 

Vegetable  life,  the  movements  of  the  stars,  the 
system  of  the  world,  the  history  of  races,  of  their  emi- 
grations, their  languages,  beliefs,  and  laws,  all  these 
were  the  subjects  of  the  questions  of  DoQa  Luz,  and 
to  all  these  Father  Enrique  found  himself  required  to 
give  an  answer. 

Sometimes  Dofla  Luz  would  go  out  walking  with 
Pepe  Giieto  and  Dofla  Mauolita,  whose  honeymoon 
Avas  prolonged  far  beyond  the  usual  time,  and  while 
the  newly  married  pair  followed  or  preceded  them, 
laughing  or  chatting  and  whispering  incessantly  to- 
gether. Father  Enrique,  who  made  one  of  the  party, 
sustained  a  serious  conversation  with  Dolia  Luz, 
which  she  found  delightful,  instructive,  and  elevat- 
ing. 

The  physicians  had  declared  that  Father  Enrique's 
life  would  be  the  sacrifice  if  he  were  to  return  to  the 
Philippines  before  his  health  should  be  completely 
re-established.  His  stay  in  Villafria,  consequently, 
was  to  extend  over  a  period  of  two  or  three  years. 

His  health  had  improved  greatly,  but  he  was  still 


FATHER  ENRIQUE'S  MANNER  OP  LIFE.       89 

far  from  strong.  He  was  a  man  of  forty,  but  his  deli- 
cate and  somewhat  childlike  features  made  him  ap- 
pear younger.  His  complexion,  which  had  been 
originally  fair,  was  bronzed  by  the  sun  ;  his  hair  and 
eyes  were  black ;  his  forehead  was  smooth  and  broad. 
He  was  of  slender  build  and  of  medium  height.  His 
life  as  a  pilgrim  and  a  missionary  compelling  him  to 
conquer  the  debility  of  his  constitution  by  the  energy 
of  his  spirit,  had  lent  his  body  extraordinary  supple- 
ness and  agility. 

Women  are  strange  creatures,  and  Dofla  Luz  was 
stranger  than  most  women.  There  is  nothing  so 
greatly  calculated  to  arouse  curiosity  as  a  persistent 
determination  on  the  part  of  its  possessor  to  conceal 
some  suspected  gift  or  accomplishment,  and  as  Father 
Enrique,  not  through  affectation,  but  either  consider- 
ing it  unbecoming  his  sacred  calling  or  because  he 
disliked  to  make  a  display  of  anything  whatsoever,  had 
never  exhibited  his  skill  as  a  horseman  before  Dofla 
Luz,  the  latter,  having  learned  that  he  knew  how  to 
ride  and  had  traveled  a  great  deal  on  horseback  in 
Cochin-China  and  in  India,  innocently  formed  the 
project,  which  she  at  last  succeeded  in  carrying  out, 
of  inducing  him  to  take  a  ride  on  horseback  with  her 
and  Don  Anselmo.  Dofla  Luz  contrived  matters  so 
that  Father  Enrique  should  be  obliged  to  put  his 
horse  into  a  gallop,  which  he  did  with  perfect  skill, 
showing  no  desire  to  excite  her  admiration  or  to  dis- 


90  DO^A  LUZ. 

play  an  accomplishment,  but  simply  as  a  matter  of 
course.  Dofla  Luz,  who  rode  daringly,  barely  escaped 
a  dangerous  fall  in  leaping  a  ditch.  Her  horse,  mis- 
judging the  distance,  had  jumped  short  and  would 
have  fallen  with  his  mistress  had  not  Father  Enrique, 
taking  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  come  quickly  to 
her  assistance  and  urged  the  animal  over  the  ditch 
with  the  whip,  and,  by  example,  making  his  own 
horse  first  take  the  leap. 

Father  Enrique,  after  they  had  cleared  the  ditch, 
reproved  Dona  Luz  for  her  daring  with  as  much  gen- 
tleness and  courtesy  as  firmness,  and,  saying  that  it 
might  furnish  motive  for  scandal  if  he  were  to  be 
seen  galloping  and  leaping  ditches  in  that  fashion", 
declared  that  he  would  never  again  ride  out  on  horse- 
back, a  resolution  to  which  he  thenceforward  firmly 
adhered. 

This  very  strength  of  will  delighted  Dofia  Luz, 
even  when  it  interfered  with  the  gratification  of  her 
tastes  or  caprices.  The  calmness  and  serenity  of 
spirit  of  the  priest,  and  still  more  his  perspicacity, 
aroused  her  admiration.  She  thought  him  a  magician 
in  matters  of  the  heart.  All  her  little  defects,  all 
her  faults,  Dolla  Luz  was  conscious  were  noted  by 
Father  Enrique,  who  reproved  her  for  them  with 
delicate  circumspection,  while  at  the  same  time  he  did 
not  fail  to  observe  also  all  that  there  was  of  good  and 
noble  in  her  soul,  praising  these  qualities  in  her  with- 


HOMILY.  91 

out  manifesting  the  remotest  desire  to  make  himself 
ill  this  way  agreeable  to  her. 

She,  too,  looked  into  the  soul  of  Father  Enrique, 
and  tried  to  read  it  as  he  had  read  hers.  And  she  saw 
that  it  was  clear  and  transparent  as  the  sea  that  bathes 
the  coasts  of  Andalusia,  but  so  profound  that,  not- 
withstanding its  transparence,  notwithstanding  the 
heavenly  radiance  with  which  it  was  flooded,  the  sight 
grew  giddy  and  blind  while  it  was  yet  at  an  immeasur- 
able distance  from  the  depths  which  it  vainly  strove 
to  penetrate. 


IX. 

HOMILY. 

In"  the  midst  of  this  peaceful  existence  of  Dofia 
Luz  and  her  friends  the  spring  of  18G1  arrived. 

During  Lent  Father  Enrique  preached  several 
times  with  only  moderate  success,  and  without  eclips- 
ing in  any  way  the  fame  of  the  pr;.ests  who  preached 
alternately  with  him.  The  number  of  his  admirers  had 
been  increased  by  scarcely  any  one  who  was  not  in- 
cluded in  the  circle  of  Don  Acisclo's  intimate  friends. 

This  year  Don  Acisclo,  owing  to  his  nephew's 
presence  in  the  town,  desired  to  make  a  greater  dis- 
play than  he  had  ever  done  before  on  Holy  Thursday, 
and  the  somewhat  profane  banquet  given  in  honor  of 


93  D05fA  LUZ, 

the  carrying  in  procession  of  the  "  Holy  Supper  "  was 
sumptuous  and  abundant. 

Dofla  Luz  on  this  occasion  was  exceedingly  ami- 
able with  every  one,  and  Dofia  Manolita  was  very  gay 
and  witty. 

These  were  not  the  reunions,  however,  which 
pleased  Dofla  Luz  and  her  friend,  but  the  daily  famil- 
iar ones  in  which  they  themselves  incited  Don  An- 
selmo  to  provoke  a  discussion  with  the  priest  so  as 
to  draw  out  the  latter  on  points  of  religion  and  phi- 
losophy. 

On  not  a  few  occasions  Father  Enrique  had  dis- 
played, in  the  opinion  of  his  hearers,  a  moving  elo- 
quence, but  never  had  this  eloquence  produced  so  deep 
an  impression  on  their  minds  as  it  did  on  the  night  of 
Easter  Sunday. 

Don  Anselmo,  incited  by  Dofla  Luz  and  his  daugh- 
ter, at  last,  after  a  few  less  important  attacks,  spoke 
as  follows : 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  said  about  charity  and  devo- 
tion, but  if  we  examine  the  question  closely  we  shall 
find  that  all  our  actions  spring  from  selfishness.  It  is 
not  piety,  it  is  not  love  for  our  fellow-beings  that  moves 
us,  but  the  desire  for  our  own  salvation  and  the  fear 
of  hell." 

"  Viewed  in  this  way,"  answered  Father  Enrique, 
"there  is  no  feeling,  however  disinterested  it  may  be, 
which  has  not  its  foundation   in  selfishness.      The 


noMiLY.  93 

words  themselves  express  this.  What  is  compassion? 
It  is  nothing  more  than  a  certain  quality  by  virtue  of 
which  the  soul  suffers  when  it  sees  others  suffering, 
as  if  it  suffered  itself.  Every  sacrifice,  consequently, 
whether  of  peace,  of  the  life  of  the  body,  or  of  the 
goods  of  fortune,  which  tends  to  render  the  soul  com- 
passionate is  to  be  regarded  as  springing  from  selfish- 
ness. The  compassionate  soul  makes  this  sacrifice  in 
order  to  free  itself  from  suffering,  so  that  the  suffer- 
ing of  another  may  not  pain  it  as  if  it  were  its  own 
suffering,  to  procure  for  itself  the  peace  and  the  wel- 
fare it  longs  for.  Every  philanthropic  act  springs 
from  pity;  consequently  it  springs  from  self-love; 
consequently  it  springs  from  selfishness.  The  most 
you  philanthropists  can  say  in  your  defense  is  that 
your  selfishness  is  a  wise  selfishness,  a  selfishness  which 
is  advantageous  to  all  concerned." 

"  You  see,"  said  Don  Anselmo,  addressing  his 
other  auditors,  "  how  Father  Enrique,  since  he  can 
not  defend  himself,  attacks;  but  his  arguments  do 
not  apply  to  me.  I  am  willing  to  grant  him  that 
the  human  virtue  of  philanthropy  springs  from  pity, 
and,  as  a  consequence,  is  selfish  in  its  nature,  but  is 
the  divine  virtue  of  charity  less  selfish  in  its  origin 
and  source?  In  order  to  avoid  suffering  myself  in 
seeing  another  suffer,  I  perform,  for  instance,  an  act 
of  philanthropy ;  I  perform  it  that  I  may  be  at  peace 
with  myself ;  I  am  then  selfish,  but  he  who  performs 


94  DONA  LUZ. 

an  act  of  charity  for  the  love  of  God,  to  obtain  favor 
with  God,  upon  whom  all  his  happiness  depends,  does 
he  show  himself  less  self-interested?  I  even  think 
that  the  philanthropist  is  superior  to  the  man  who  is 
actuated  by  charity,  for  after  all  the  natural  state  of 
the  unbelieving  soul  which  feels  the  sufferings  of 
another  as  if  they  were  its  own,  and  performs  a  good 
work  with  the  purpose  of  delivering  itself  from  those 
sufferings,  is  nobler  and  more  beautiful  than  the 
somewhat  supernatural  state  of  the  believing  soul 
which  performs  a  good  Avork  through  fear  of  punish- 
ment or  with  the  hope  of  a  reward  ;  not  for  the  love  of 
the  miserable  being  it  succors  and  protects,  but  for 
love  of  the  all-powerful  being  on  whom  all  its  hopes 
depend." 

"  To  censure  the  soul  for  always  seeking  its  own 
good,"  replied  Father  Enrique,  "  would  be  as  absurd 
as  to  censure  the  atoms  for  seeking  their  center  of 
gravity.  This  is  an  immutable  law,  from  which  there 
is  no  exemption,  which  there  is  neither  merit  nor 
demerit  in  obeying.  The  soul  seeks  a  state  of  beati- 
tude, in  which  alone  it  can  find  repose,  as  the  stone 
loosened  from  the  summit  of  the  tower  falls  without 
stopping  in  its  course  until  it  has  reached  the  ground ; 
as  the  ball  shot  by  an  unerring  hand  flies  to  bury  itself 
in  the  center  of  the  target.  The  important,  the  free, 
the  meritorious  part  of  the  action  consists  in  choosing 
the  right  end,  in   seeking   supreme  good  where   in 


HOMILY.  95 

reality  it  resides.  Once  the  good,  real  or  fancied,  is 
discovered,  there  is  no  one  who  does  not  seek  to 
attain  it  by  an  act  as  free  as  it  is  necessary,  since  the 
very  essence  of  every  will  is  to  desire  the  good.  Love 
of  self  is  a  necessity — a  necessity  from  which  not  even 
God  himself  is  exempt." 

"  I  do  not  deny  that  it  may  be  so,"  replied  Don 
Anselmo.  "  I  agree  with  all  you  have  said.  Father 
Enrique,  but  where,  then,  is  free  will,  the  responsi- 
bility for  our  acts?  There  would  in  that  case  be 
neither  sins  nor  crimes ;  there  would  only  be  errors. 
The  intelligence  would  be  deceived  by  appearances 
and  would  present  to  the  will  as  good  what  is  in 
reality  bad." 

"  That  would  be  the  case,"  responded  Father  En- 
rique, "  if  error  were  unavoidable ;  but  error  is  not 
always  unavoidable.  In  falling  into  error  there  may 
be  freedom  of  will  and,  as  a  consequence,  sin.  At 
times  the  passions  which  we  do  not  seek  to  control 
darken  the  intelligence  and  cause  it  to  err ;  at  times 
the  supernatural  gift  of  grace  does  not  come  to  us 
because  we  render  ourselves  unworthy  of  it,  and  in 
that  case,  also,  the  understanding  is  confused  and 
led  into  error.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  we  are  not 
now  discussing  free  will  and  fate,  but  the  question  as 
to  whether  the  soul  in  loving  is  disinterested,  since, 
in  doing  so,  it  seeks  its  own  good,  although  this  good 

is  centered  in  love  itself." 
7 


96  I>OSfA  LUZ. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  said  Dofla  Luz. 

"That  is  the  question  under  discussion  to-day," 
added  Dofla  Manolita. 

"  Let  us  take,  for  instance,"  continued  Father 
Enrique,  "  a  lover,  a  knight  of  the  middle  ages,  who, 
in  honor  of  his  mistress,  endures  the  most  cruel 
hardships,  exposes  himself  to  the  greatest  dangers, 
and  brings  to  a  successful  termination  the  most 
perilous  adventures.  Let  us  suppose  that  he  does  all 
this  for  a  mistress  who,  he  has  reason  to  believe,  will 
never  requite  his  affection.  And  let  us  suppose, 
finally,  that  he  does  all  this  only  to  serve  her,  and 
without  the  hope  of  reward.  AYe  may  still,  according 
to  Don  Anselmo's  method  of  reasoning,  call  this  a 
selfish  affection,  since  the  soul  of  the  aforesaid  knight 
finds  delight  in  doing  all  he  does  for  his  mistress, 
although  she  scorns  his  love,  or  since,  if  he  does  not 
find  delight  in  it,  he  finds  consolation,  considering 
that  he  would  have  been  a  thousand  times  more  un- 
happy if  he  had  not  done  what  he  has  done,  and  given 
her  such  strong  and  unselfish  proofs  of  his  love.  But 
is  there  anything  strange  in  this,  if  this  love,  unre- 
quited though  it  be,  is  the  cause  of  happiness  and  a 
secret  Joy  to  the  lover  who  prefers  to  love,  although 
in  vain,  to  seeing  love  depart  from  his  soul,  leav- 
ing it  lonely,  arid,  and  empty  ?  It  is  thus  demon- 
strated that  all  our  acts  spring  from  selfishness, 
although  we  must  concede  that  there  is   a   certain 


HOMILY.  97 

kind  of  selfishness  which  is  worthy  of  admiration  and 
praise.' 

"  I  accept,"  returned  Don  Anselmo,  "  the  example 
of  the  lady  and  the  knight-errant  of  the  good  old 
days  of  chivalry  which  Father  Enrique  adduces ;  hut 
I  doubt  much  that  the  knight  would  perform  his 
deeds  of  prowess  in  the  hope  of  a  reward  which  he 
knew  to  be  unattainable.  The  same  high  esteem  in 
which  he  holds  the  lady  of  his  thoughts  will  persuade 
him  that  she  will  not  prove  unkind.  The  knight, 
consequently,  seeks  to  perform  these  prodigies  of 
valor  selfishly  and  in  the  hope  of  a  reward ;  but  even 
in  the  unlikely  supposition  that  he  should  not  cherish 
this  hope,  a  comparison  can  not  be  drawn  between 
him  and  the  charitable  Christian,  whose  hopes,  we  are 
to  suppose,  never  fail  him.  In  his  conception  of  God 
is  involved  the  idea  of  his  goodness,  of  his  omnipo- 
tence, and  of  his  justice,  and  in  them  rests  the  se- 
curity of  his  expected  reward.  I  return,  then,  to  the 
subject  of  my  argument.  Every  worldly  virtue  may 
be  selfish,  but  the  charity  of  the  Christian  is  even 
more  selfish  still,  since  it  is  based  on  the  firm  con- 
viction and  the  sure  and  certain  hope  of  reward.  But, 
notwithstanding  this,  I  do  not  regard  this  virtue  as 
to  be  scorned,  and  I  should  deem  the  hope  and  the 
faith  from  which  it  springs  supremely  beneficent  if 
it  were  always,  although  from  interested  motives,  the 
cause  of  good  works ;  but  charity,  when  it  oversteps 


98  DONA  LUZ. 

its  just  limits,  seeks  to  attain  its  end,  not  by  serving 
but  by  neglecting,  scorning,  and  despising  humanity 
and  every  other  object  the  visible  universe  contains. 
The  soul  which  retires  within  itself,  which  plunges 
into  the  fathomless  abyss  of  its  own  essence,  where 
it  unites  itself,  or  thinks  it  unites  itself,  with  God, 
wherein  does  it  serve  men  ?  What  love  does  it  dedi- 
cate to  them  ?  What  earthly  being  is  there  for  whom 
it  interests  itself  ?  The  soul  that  thus  buries  itself  in 
devout  contemplation,  fortressed  in  its  supreme  se- 
clusion, despises  everything  but  the  sphere  wherein 
it  dwells,  identified  with  the  Eternal  Lover  whom  it 
adores  and  from  whom  it  receives  complete  beati- 
tude." 

With  insinuating  gentleness  and  due  composure, 
so  as  to  make  himself  clearly  understood  by  his  hear- 
ers, and  laying  before  them  his  ideas  with  order  and 
perspicuity.  Father  Enrique  proceeded  to  reply  to  these 
arguments  of  Don  Anselmo;  but,  notwithstanding 
the  control  he  habitually  maintained  over  his  feelings 
and  his  words,  the  emotion  which  agitated  his  spirit 
betrayed  itself  in  his  voice,  in  the  brightness  of  his 
eyes,  and  the  heightened  color  of  his  cheeks,  ordinarily 
pale.  All  this  contributed  to  infuse  into  his  argu- 
ments that  singular  persuasiveness  that  captivates  the 
heart  and  brings  under  its  gentle  sway  the  proudest 
and  most  rebellious  mind. 

How  reproduce  faithfully  and  without  weakening 


HOMILY.  99 

its  force  or  diminishing  its  pious  fervor  the  simple 
and  inspired  discourse  which  Father  Enrique  then 
pronounced  ? 

The  discourse  here  reproduced  by  the  profane, 
cold,  skeptical,  and  unworthy  narrator  of  this  history 
is  to  be  regarded  at  most  as  a  vague  sketch  of  what 
that  enthusiastic  believer  said.  Father  Enrique  spoke 
as  follows : 

"  In  order  to  answer  fitly  the  arguments  of  Don 
Anselmo  it  would  be  necessary  to  enter  deeply  into 
the  profoundest  principles  of  a  very  profound  science. 
What  I  now  say,  consequently,  can  not  be  other  than 
ill  arranged  and  obscure.  I  am  going  to  sum  up 
hastily  and  in  few  words  what,  in  order  to  be  made 
clearly  intelligible,  would  require  the  strictest  method 
and  the  utmost  deliberation.  Let  us  suppose,  for  an 
instant,  that  the  soul,  withdrawing  itself  from  the 
contemplation  of  earthly  things,  all  its  faculties  and 
feelings  in  suspension,  enjoys  God  in  ecstatic  silence 
and  blissful  tranquillity  while  still  in  the  body,  and, 
absorbed  and  plunged,  as  it  were,  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  its  Creator,  takes  no  thought  of  its  fellow-be- 
ings nor  of  other  creatures.  But  before  it  attains 
this  happiness,  before  ascending  to  so  great  a  height, 
what  proofs  of  goodness  will  the  soul  not  have  given  ? 
By  what  thorny  paths  will  it  not  have  had  to  climb, 
ever  active,  attentive,  and  persistent?  To  gain  the 
favor  of  its  Creator  it  will  have  performed  deeds  of 


100  I>ONA  LUZ. 

mercy,  consoling  and  protecting  the  unhappy  and  the 
forsaken,  and,  by  its  prayers  and  penitence,  humility 
and  meekness,  it  will  have  served  as  an  astound- 
ing example  and  a  profitable  stimulus  to  every  hu- 
man beine:.  The  love  of  God  is  not  to  be  attained 
by  any  other  means.  There  is  no  easier  or  smooth- 
er path  by  which  to  reach  him.  It  is  plain,  then, 
that  although  the  soul,  when  it  has  reached  this 
goal,  is  of  no  profit  to  other  souls,  before  it  has 
reached  it  it  is  exceedingly  profitable.  And  notwith- 
standing, when  the  soul  does  reach  it,  when  it  plunges 
into  its  center  wherein  God  dwells,  and  there  learns 
to  know  him  and  unites  itself  to  him,  how  suppose 
that  for  this  reason  it  is  annihilated  or  becomes  un- 
profitable? Perhaps  in  plunging  into  that  abyss  of 
light  it  perceives  only  darkness ;  perhaps  the  eyes  of 
the  soul  are  unable  to  support  so  much  splendor ;  per- 
haps a  limited  intelligence  is  unable  to  comprehend 
those  infinite  and  ineffable  perfections.  But  if  the 
intelligence,  in  the  soul  which  reaches  God,  is  unable 
to  perceive  and  comprehend  its  whole  being,  it  is 
sufiicient  that  it  should  perceive  some  one  of  its  at- 
tributes in  order  that  it  should  not  be  lost  and  anni- 
hilated in  its  bliss.  It  is  enough  that  it  should  see 
God  in  order  to  perceive  in  God  the  world  and  the 
creatures  that  people  it  and  beautify  it,  and  to  see  all 
things  in  a  more  perfect  and  comprehensive  manner 
than  when  it  perceived  them  only  through  the  medi- 


HOMILY.  101 

um  of  the  fugitive  impressions  made  upon  the  senses. 
The  soul  then  perceives  things  as  they  are  and  not  as 
they  appear ;  it  perceives  them,  not  in  their  transitory 
manifestations,  but  in  their  pure  and  eternal  idea — 
no  longer  in  continual  conflict,  disconnected,  discord- 
ant, engaged  in  a  war  of  extermination,  but  united  in 
the  bonds  of  love,  ascending  in  harmonious  concord 
toward  knowledge  and  righteousness,  and  progressing, 
drawn  by  a  gentle  and  divine  attraction,  to  the  provi- 
dential justification  of  all  things.  And  as  the  soul 
loves  God,  and  all  things  are  in  God,  the  soul  loves  all 
things  in  loving  him.  And  it  loves  all  things  not  as 
before,  through  self-interest,  but  disinterestedly,  for 
what  more  does  the  soul  which  possesses  God  aspire 
after  or  desire  ?  Thus  the  soul  loves  all  creatures  as 
God  loves  them,  and  desires  that  they  should  all  turn 
to  God  and  love  him,  and  that  the  treasure  of  divine 
love  should  be  shared  by  them  all ;  and  then  the  love 
of  the  soul  conforming  to  and  identified  with  the  will 
of  God  embraces  the  universe  and  all  the  spiritual  and 
physical  beauty  it  contains ;  and  far  from  remaining 
inert  and  empty,  as  it  were,  and  unconscious  of  its  own 
existence,  the  soul,  in  uniting  itself  with  God,  attains 
to  a  clearer  and  distincter  self-consciousness  and  burns 
with  a  more  ardent  love  than  any  earthly  love;  and 
there  is  no  excellence  in  created  beings  whose  value  it 
does  not  justly  estimate  and  appreciate,  no  beauty  in 
which  without  concupiscence  it  does  not  delight,  for 


102  DOSfA  LUZ. 

it  now  revels  in  and  satiates  itself  with  the  purest 
joys ;  nor  riches  which  it  does  not  view  without  covet- 
ousness,  for  it  is  tlie  recipient  and  heir,  as  it  were,  of 
the  most  precious  gifts ;  and  rejoices  without  jealousy 
in  the  love  bestowed  by  God  upon  his  creatures  be- 
cause it  comprehends  them  and  imagines  that  all  the 
love  bestowed  upon  them  by  God  it  receives  and  en- 
joys itself.  What  sacrifice,  what  stupendous  work  of 
charity,  what  heroic  act  of  love,  what  devotion,  abne- 
gation, martyrdom,  will  not  the  soul  be  capable  of 
which  unites  itself  with  God  and  which  turns  toward 
all  creatures  and  contemplates  them  in  God  himself 
as  if  they  were  a  part  of  the  being  and  the  substance 
of  the  beloved  object !  Far  from  believing,  then,  that 
this  union  of  the  soul  with  God  renders  it  inert  and 
unprofitable  with  resjDcct  to  other  beings,  I  believe 
that  it  qualifies  it  and  incites  it  to  draw  from  the  ex- 
haustless  spring  of  divine  love  the  streams  of  charity 
which  it  afterward  diffuses  on  the  earth ;  for  as  the 
Word,  which  is  God,  gave  its  mortal  and  human  life 
for  the  welfare  of  mankind,  the  soul  which  unites 
itself  with  God  acquires  the  divine  grace  to  dare 
and  suffer  for  mankind  tortures  and  death,  imitat- 
ing Christ,  who  is  the  God  with  whom  it  unites 
itself." 

In  this  manner  Father  Enrique  expressed  himself, 
as  far  as  the  unskillful  and  profane  pen  of  the  writer 
is  competent  to  report  his  improvised  homily ;  albeit 


HOMILY.  103 

in  the  sacred  science  which  he  thus  expounded  the 
subtlest  conceptions  are  uttered,  the  deepest  mysteries 
ehicidated  by  those  who  have  acquired  their  knowl- 
edge not  from  books  and  study,  but  from  personal 
experience,  and  who  by  reason  of  their  exalted  sanc- 
tity enjoyed  the  divine  favor. 

And  while  Father  Enrique  discoursed,  Don  Acisclo 
listened  entranced,  although  he  did  not  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  a  single  word ;  Don  Anselmo,  with- 
out being  convinced  by  the  arguments  of  the  priest, 
listened  to  them  with  the  same  pleasure  with  which 
he  would  have  listened  to  a  beautiful  poem ;  and 
Dofla  Luz,  Dofla  Manolita,  and  Pepe  Giieto  listened 
with  profound  attention  and  extreme  religious  fervor, 
flattering  themselves  that  they  understood  it  all. 

Perhaps  Father  Enrique,  however,  was  not  of  this 
opinion,  for  in  order  to  elucidate  and  complete  his 
meaning,  he  resumed  as  follows  : 

"  I  may  compare  your  worldly  philanthropy  to  a 
broad  river  which,  by  means  of  canals  and  trenches, 
waters  and  fertilizes  the  fields,  while  the  soul  that 
unites  itself  by  love  with  God  is  like  the  lake  which 
under  the  influence  of  the  sun's  rays  sends  up  its 
vapors  to  the  heavens.  Are  the  waters  of  this  lake 
less  beneficial  than  the  waters  of  the  river  ?  No ;  for 
presently  they  descend  in  fertilizing  showers  more 
profitable  than  any  artificial  irrigation,  and  which  are 
even  the  immediate  cause  of  this  artificial  irrigation. 


104  I>ONA  LUZ. 

since  the  rain  which  falls  from  heaven  congeals  in 
stainless  and  abundant  snows  upon  the  mountain 
peaks,  forming  the  inexhaustible  sources  whence  flow 
the  crystal  waters  of  brooks  and  rivers.  Let  the  rude 
and  ignorant  husbandman  continue  to  believe  when  he 
irrigates  his  fields  that  the  water  he  uses  comes  from 
the  neighboring  mountain  and  that  it  is  derived  by 
hidden  channels  from  the  bosom  of  the  earth.  But 
would  this  water  be  there  if  it  had  not  fallen  from  the 
heavens?  In  the  same  way  philanthropy,  a  merely 
human  virtue,  has  its  origin — those  who  practice  it, 
perhaps,  being  themselves  ignorant  that  it  is  so — in  di- 
vine charity.  The  love  of  God  ascends  to  heaven  ;  it 
might  be  supposed  that  it  disdained  this  lower  world, 
but,  descending  again  to  the  earth,  like  the  limpid 
dew  of  morning,  it  becomes  transformed  into  a  fervid 
love  to  man.  In  our  true  religion  the  supreme  good 
does  not  imply,  as  in  some  of  the  false  religions,  the 
annihilation  of  consciousness.  If  the  mind  can  not 
be  reached  by  reason,  God  adorns  and  clothes  it  with 
supernatural  graces ;  instead  of  destroying  it  he  en- 
dows it  with  faith,  that  it  may  live  and  understand. 
And  at  times  an  interior  light  springs  from  the  depths 
of  the  soul,  illuming  the  faculties  that  have  not  pene- 
trated to  these  depths,  where  our  individual  being, 
still  in  ecstasy,  is*  not  darkened,  does  not  grow  giddy 
or  faint,  but,  on  the  contrary,  lives  with  a  more  fervent 
life,  feels,  thinks,  knows,  and  loves.     If,  in  order  to 


HOMILY.  105 

ascend  to  the  mystic  union,  the  soul  frees  itself  from 
all  material  bonds,  if  it  arrives  at  a  comprehension  of 
the  fact  that  God  only  and  itself  exist,  this  death 
resembles  natural  death,  in  which  the  soul  frees  itself 
from  its  mortal  trammels.  And  as  the  soul  is  to 
clothe  itself  with  a  glorious  body,  so  too  will  all  its 
faculties  which,  perhaps,  in  order  to  reach  divine  ec- 
stasy had  died,  live  again.  No ;  the  soul  of  the  de- 
vout Christian  is  not  lost  in  universal  being,  as  in  the 
Nirvana  of  the  Buddhists.  No ;  it  does  not  fall  into 
an  eternal  sleep,  but,  on  the  contrary,  attains  the  full- 
ness of  life.  The  atmosphere  penetrated  everywhere 
by  the  rays  of  the  sun  seems  golden  sunlight  and  not 
air ;  and  the  iron  heated  at  the  forge  is  not  opaque 
and  dark,  but  refulgent  as  the  fire  into  which  it  has 
been  plunged,  and  in  the  same  way,  in  so  far  as  it  is 
possible  to  compare  it  with  material  things,  the  soul 
which  has  united  itself  with  God  seems  one  with 
God.  And  finally,  for  the  profit  which  other  men 
may  derive  from  these  gifts  and  graces  of  contemplat- 
ive spirits,  I  wish  to  add  a  consideration  of  great 
weight,  to  wit,  that  no  belief,  no  religion  exalts  the 
dignity  of  human  nature,  of  the  human  being  consid- 
ered apart  from  accidental  advantages,  as  does  ours. 
The  Elysian  Fields,  the  paradises,  the  empyreans  of 
other  religions  open  their  gates  only  to  the  great  ones 
of  the  earth — to  princes,  savants,  warriors,  and  nobles 
— ^while  our  heaven  is  a  heaven  for  the  poor,  for  the 


106  150^-^  LUZ. 

lowly,  for  the  peaceable  and  the  meek.  And  this 
serves,  not  only  as  a  consolation,  by  the  hope  it  holds 
out  of  a  better  life  for  the  frowns  of  fortune  and  the 
hardships  and  misery  they  must  endure  in  this  life, 
but  it  exercises  a  powerful  influence  on  the  present 
period  of  existence,  and  confers  an  inestimable  value 
upon  every  human  soul,  as  being  redeemed  by  Christ, 
and  renders  all  men  more  truly  equal  than  any  law  of 
man  could  do,  and  clothes  with  sacred  majesty  and 
makes  all  creatures — the  most  wretched,  the  vilest,  the 
most  abject,  and  the  most  sinful — more  to  us  than 
brothers." 

Father  Enrique's  hearers,  who  on  this  evening 
were  only  four  in  number,  listened  to  him  with  de- 
light. Don  Anselmo  went  so  far  as  to  confess  that  he 
began  to  feel  a  desire  to  become  a  Christian ;  Dofia 
Manolita  and  her  husband  felt  themselves  better 
Christians  than  ever  before ;  Don  Acisclo  thought 
that  his  nephew  had  almost  as  good  an  understanding 
as  himself,  although  he  employed  it  in  less  practical 
matters ;  and  Dofla  Luz,  charmed,  enraptured,  added, 
perhaps,  with  her  rich  poetic  imagination  a  thousand- 
fold to  the  beauty,  the  originality,  and  the  profundity 
of  Father  Enrique's  discourse,  of  which  she  did  not 
lose  a  single  word,  grasping  in  its  profoundest  signifi- 
cance each  and  every  part  of  it. 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  107 

X. 

AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE. 

In  this  way  the  pleasure  Dofia  Luz  derived  from 
Father  Enrique's  society  and  the  sincere  friendship 
she  entertained  for  him  were  strengthened  day  by 
day. 

As  if  by  a  rapid,  though  gentle  descent,  her  heart 
had  come  to  desire  exclusively  these  conversations 
with  a  man  in  whom  she  found  genius,  wisdom,  and 
elevation  of  thought  and  feeling  hitherto  undiscovered 
by  her  in  any  other  human  being,  and  of  which  she 
had  knowledge  only  from  the  books  she  had  read. 

No  mistrust  disturbed  the  purity  or  shook  the 
constancy  of  this  feeling,  tranquil  and  serene,  irresisti- 
ble and  frank.  Dofia  Luz,  proud  as  she  was  in  the 
crystal  mirror  of  her  untroubled  conscience,  could  de- 
scry no  danger  which,  however  faintly  or  remotely  it 
might  present  itself  to  her  view,  would  still  be  a  stain. 
The  slightest  thought  of  putting  herself  on  her  guard 
would  have  implied  fear  and  unworthy  suspicion.  As 
Dofia  Luz  had  no  fear  for  herself,  neither  had  she 
any  fear  for  Father  Enrique.  She  regarded  him  as  a 
saint,  and  she  began  to  love  and  venerate  him  as  pious 
persons  love  and  venerate  the  saints. 

The  candor  of  Dona  Luz  was  so  great  that  she 
would  have  communicated  to  Father  Enrique  the  sen- 


108  I>OSfA  LUZ. 

timents  with  which  he  inspired  her  if  she  had  not 
feared  to  offend  his  modesty  or  to  seem  a  flatterer. 
But  although  she  did  not  tell  him  so  in  words,  the 
extraordinary  predilection  she  manifested  for  his  so- 
ciety, seeking  it  continually,  and  happy  only  when  he 
was  at  her  side,  when  she  was  speaking  to  him  or  lis- 
tening to  him,  was  sufficient  evidence  of  their  nature. 

Father  Enrique,  on  his  part,  did  not  manifest  the 
slightest  surprise  at  the  marks  of  good-will  he  re- 
ceived from  Dona  Luz.  And  this  not  from  vanity 
or  because  he  thought  they  were  his  due,  but  because 
he  thought  nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that 
she  should  thus  reciprocate  his  friendship  for  her. 

Father  Enrique  had  a  great  deal  or  very  little 
knowledge  of  the  world,  according  to  the  meaning  we 
choose  to  attach  to  those  words. 

He  knew  the  human  heart  as  it  is  by  nature  and 
in  its  unsophisticated  state.  In  dealing  with  the 
simple  natives  of  the  far  East,  gaining  souls  and  sub- 
duing evil  inclinations,  he  had  shown  marvelous 
power,  but  as  he  had  left  Spain  when  very  young, 
and  had  scarcely  any  experience  of  the  artificial  and 
somewhat  insincere  society  of  our  age,  whose  cvdture 
and  conventional  usages  extend  to  the  remotest  ham- 
let, he  regarded  and  judged  everything  with  a  certain 
primitive  simplicity,  interpreting  words  and  actions 
differently  from  people  in  general.  So  that,  although 
he  noted,  and  felt  flattered  in  doing  so,  that  Dofia 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  109 

Luz  held  him  in  the  highest  esteem,  he  never  sus- 
pected that  there  could  be  the  slightest  impropriety 
in  this,  either  on  her  account  or  his  own,  or  because 
of  the  public.  The  aSection  of  Dofia  Luz  differed 
in  his  eyes  from  the  affection  entertained  for  him 
by  the  various  Indian,  Chinese,  or  Anamite  converts 
he  had  made  only  in  that  the  feeling  of  Dofia  Luz 
was  to  be  esteemed  of  higher  value  on  account  of  the 
excellence  of  the  person  professing  it,  and  in  whom 
the  priest  had  discovered  innumerable  perfections — 
a  mind  carefully  cultivated  and  capable  of  soaring  to 
the  highest  regions  of  thought  and  a  heart  full  of 
tender,  noble,  and  pure  emotions.  Nor,  as  I  have 
said,  had  Father  Enrique  any  fear  on  his  own  account. 
He  loved  Dofla  Luz  as  the  master  loves  his  pupil, 
as  one  soul  loves  another  soul  when  both  share  the 
same  beliefs  and  opinions,  when  both  soar  to  the  same 
heights  and  cherish  and  meditate  upon  the  same 
thoughts. 

Father  Enrique  felt  himself  attracted  toward  Dofia 
Luz  more  powerfully  than  toward  any  of  the  otlier 
persons  whom  he  knew  in  the  town  or  whom,  out- 
side of  the  town,  he  had  ever  before  known;  but 
this  may  be  explained  in  the  simplest  and  most 
innocent  way. 

Who  better  than  Dofia  Luz  grasped  the  meaning 
of  his  discourses?  Who  followed  his  arguments  most 
closely,  who  anticipated  him  at  times  in  those  flights 


110  DOSfA  LUZ. 

of  the  imagination  when  he  struggled  to  rise  to  re- 
gions to  which  cold  reason  can  not  attain  ?  Unques- 
tionably, Dofla  Luz.  Dofla  Luz  was,  consequently, 
for  Father  Enrique,  a  being  far  superior  to  all  who 
surrounded  her,  and  worthy  of  devoted  affection.  In 
the  turbid  water  of  a  neglected  pond,  in  the  disturbed 
and  muddy  water  of  a  torrent,  nothing  is  reflected 
clearly,  while  in  the  limpid,  smooth,  and  tranquil 
bosom  of  a  clear  lake,  the  sky,  the  hills,  the  stars,  the 
light,  the  flowers,  and  all  the  glory  and  pomp  of 
nature  are  .imaged  with  so  much  perfection  that  the 
sky  seems  there  to  be  more  spacious  and  profound, 
the  light  clearer,  the  flowers,  brighter,  the  hills  bolder, 
their  outlines  and  contours  to  be  more  graceful  and 
to  recede  more  softly  into  the  distance,  the  grass  of 
the  meadow  greener  and  fresher.  Wherefore,  even 
he  who  does  not  observe  the  beauty  of  the  lake  itself, 
who  is  cold  to  the  charm  it  exercises,  may  still  take 
delight  in  what  it  reflects  and  duplicates  in  its  bosom, 
and  take  more  pleasure  in  contemplating  all  this 
in  its  reflection  in  the  lake  than  as  it  is  in  reality. 
And,  in  like  manner,  Father  Enrique,  who  scarcely 
noticed  the  beauty  and  refinement  of  the  form  and 
face  of  Dona  Luz,  or  the  distinction  of  her  manners, 
or  the  repose  and  dignity  of  her  bearing,  looked  be- 
yond her  bodily  and  exterior  graces  into  her  soul, 
where  shone  a  world  of  thoughts  which  were  his  own, 
but  which  seemed  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  m 

reflected  back  from  the  mind  of  Dofia  Luz  than  they 
were  in  themselves. 

The  conversations  between  Dofla  Luz  and  Father 
Enrique  almost  always  took  place  in  their  familiar 
reunions ;  in  the  presence  of  Don  Acisclo,  Don  Ansel- 
mo,  Pepe  Gueto  and  his  wife,  and  Don  Miguel,  the 
parish  priest.  Sometimes,  however,  they  would  chance 
to  find  themselves  alone  in  the  house,  or  they  would 
converse  without  listeners  or  other  interlocutors  when 
they  went  out  walking  with  Pepe  Giieto  and  his  wife, 
and  these  latter  preceded  or  followed  them,  absorbed 
in  their  own  happiness,  for  their  honeymoon,  un- 
dimmed  as  yet  by  a  cloud,  still  lasted.  On  these  oc- 
casions, not  from  premeditation  on  the  part  of  either 
or  studied  purpose,  which  would  imply  a  fear  from 
which  both  were  free,  but  through  an  instinctive, 
innocent  and  holy  delicacy,  through  unconscious  shy- 
ness and  saintly  purity  of  heart,  they  never  spoke  of 
themselves  nor  of  their  secret  feelings  even  in  general 
terms,  but  of  the  visible  pomp  of  the  material  uni- 
verse, and  of  the  harmony,  richness,  and  order  which 
adorn  it,  proclaiming  the  goodness,  the  power,  and 
the  wisdom  of  him  who  created  it  out  of  nothing. 

Dofla  Luz,  however,  had  occasionally  led  Father 
Enrique,  when  others  were  present,  to  speak  of  him- 
self and  of  his  travels.  And  Father  Enrique,  with 
modesty  and  sobriety,  it  is  true,  could  not  but  let  the 
dangers  which  he  had  run  and  the  sufferings   and 


112  DOSfA  LUZ. 

hardships  he  had  endured  with  heroic  valor  be  per- 
ceived and  appreciated. 

Father  Enrique,  on  his  side,  had  read  in  the  eyes 
and  on  the  countenance  of  Dofia  Luz  her  most  secret 
thoughts  and  feelings.  In  this  he  had  been  aided  by 
the  habit  of  observing  and  studying  human  nature, 
which  he  had  acquired  during  the  many  years  in 
which  he  had  been  a  preacher,  confessor,  and  cate- 
chist.  Besides,  if  there  had  been  anything  which  he 
was  unable  to  decipher,  his  uncle,  Don  Acisclo,  in 
his  rough  speech,  would  have  given  him  the  key  to  it, 
describing  to  him,  as  he  had  done,  the  life  of  Dofla 
Luz  ever  since  she  had  been  in  the  town,  the  in- 
difference which  she  had  manifested  toward  her  ad- 
mirers, her  pride,  and  her  firm  resolution  never  to 
marry. 

However  closely  we  may  examine  into  and  study 
our  own  natures,  however  deeply  we  may  search  into 
the  inmost  recesses  of  our  conscience,  however  severely 
we  may  judge  ourselves,  and  however  vigilant  we 
may  be,  we  are  apt  to  cherish  some  favorite  plan  or 
project  which  delights  and  attracts  us,  and  which 
slirouds  itself  in  so  fascinating  a  mystery  that  it  suc- 
ceeds in  hiding  or  veiling  or  disguising  itself  from 
the  reason  when  called  to  its  tribunal  to  be  judged, 
and  perhaps  condemned,  Avliile  it  remains  exposed 
and  bare,  as  it  were,  to  the  eager  gaze  of  the  passion 
that  has  created  it. 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  113 

In  this  vague  and  confused  manner  Father  En- 
rique, who  found  delight  in  the  companionship  of 
Dofia  Luz,  formed,  if  not  a  project,  an  illusion,  a 
hope,  a  vision  of  future  friendship,  merely,  but  of 
friendship  full  of  tenderness.  He  was  scarcely  con- 
scious that  he  formed  it,  but  he  assuredly  formed  it. 
This  dream,  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  far  removed 
from  anything  bordering  on  sinfulness  of  feeling  that 
it  gave  rise  to  no  scruples  of  conscience.  His  project 
was  simple.  Dofla  Luz,  it  was  almost  certain,  would 
never  marry  now ;  the  best  part  of  her  intelligence, 
therefore,  would  be  employed  in  communicating  with 
the  intelligence  of  the  priest,  her  voice  in  speaking  to 
him,  her  ear  in  listening  to  him;  her  most  serious 
occupation  would  be  to  think  of  heavenly  things 
according  to  the  method  and  form  in  which  he 
thought ;  her  greatest  delight  to  speak  with  him  of 
God  and  of  the  soul,  and  of  all  truth,  and  of  all  good- 
ness and  beauty.  In  fine.  Father  Enrique,  without 
confessing  it  to  himself,  came  gradually  to  persuade 
himself  that  with  his  spirit  he  would  complete  and 
interpenetrate  the  spirit  of  Dofla  Luz,  and  he  hardly 
noticed  that  she  had  dominated  his  spirit  completely, 
although  with  a  certain  subordination  and  depend- 
ence of  other  sentiments  and  ideas  of  far  superior 
worth,  which  prevailed  above  that  new  and  more 
potent  influence. 

From  all  this  resulted  an  ardent  friendship  which 


114  doSa  luz. 

was  nourished  by  the  intercourse  and  constant  com- 
munication between  these  two  persons. 

In  small  towns,  neither  more  nor  less  than  in 
larger  places,  the  tongue  of  slander  is  never  idle,  but 
on  this  occasion,  many  circumstances  conspired  to 
prevent  gossip  from  busying  itself  with  relations  so 
innocent  and  placing  an  evil  construction  upon  them. 

The  chief  causes  which  concur  to  make  an  inti- 
macy between  two  persons  of  opposite  sexes  the  sub- 
ject of  gossip,  particularly  if  this  intimacy  has  not 
marriage  as  its  professed  end,  did  not  present  them- 
selves here.  As  a  general  thing,  one  of  these  causes 
is  the  desire  of  the  man  to  have  it  thought,  through 
vanity,  that  more  is  going  on  than  appears,  a  suspi- 
cion to  which  he  himself  by  a  feigned  reticence  often 
artfully  contributes.  There  are  women,  too,  who  are 
no  less  desirous  that  the  attentions  they  receive  should 
be  known,  especially  if  their  adorers  be  men  of  rank 
or  wealth,  or  otherwise  distinguished. 

Nothing  of  this  kind  was  the  case  between  Father 
Enrique  and  Dofia  Luz.  The  contrary,  indeed,  was 
the  case. 

The  young  men  of  Villafria  and  the  neighboring 
towns  who,  warranted  in  doing  so  by  their  gifts  of 
person  or  of  fortune,  had  ventured  to  aspire  to  the 
hand  of  Dofia  Luz,  and  had  been  gently  repulsed  by 
her  before  compromising  themselves  by  a  declaration, 
had  so  high  an  opinion  both  of  her  and  of  themselves 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  115 

that  they  one  and  all  regarded  her,  proof  as  she  had 
been  against  their  attractions  and  their  endowments, 
as  invulnerable.  How  was  it  possible  to  suppose  that 
she  who  had  been  cold,  indifferent,  and  insensible 
to  the  love  of  a  handsome,  bold,  and  gallant  young 
man  should  be  captivated  by  a  middle-aged  and  sickly 
friar. 

Women  are,  for  the  most  part,  eager  to  reveal  what 
they  may  know  or  suspect  to  the  discredit  of  other 
women  whom  they  hate,  but  Dofla  Luz  was  so  supe- 
rior to,  and  so  far  removed  from  all  rivalry,  and  had 
made  herself  so  greatly  beloved  by  every  one  that  no 
one  cared  to  play  the  spy  upon  her  movements  so  as 
to  be  able  to  detect  her  in  a  fault  for  the  purpose  of 
accusing  her  of  it  afterward. 

Besides,  Dofia  Manolita,  with  her  loquacity,  her 
independence,  and  her  jests,  was  the  organ  of  public 
opinion  of  greatest  authority  and  widest  influence  in 
Villafria,  and  Dofia  Manolita  would  never  have  con- 
sented to  hear  the  actions  of  Dofla  Luz  criticised  even 
had  there  been  reason  for  such  criticism,  which  there 
was  not ;  she  would  have  silenced  with  her  mockery 
the  loudest  accents  of  calumny. 

Nor  was  the  opinion  entertained  in  Villafria  of 
Father  Enrique  such  as  to  admit  of  any  evil  construc- 
tion being  placed  upon  his  intimacy  with  Dofia  Luz ; 
most  of  his  fellow-townspeople,  as  they  did  not  find 
him  entertaining,  and,  indeed,  scarcely  knew  what  to 


116  do5Ja  luz. 

make  of  him,  had  almost  ceased  to  remember  his  ex- 
istence, and  if  they  sometimes  called  him  to  mind,  it 
was  to  think  of  him  as  a  holy  man,  tiresome,  sickly, 
and  by  no  means  agreeable  in  his  manners.  A  man 
of  a  different  epoch,  odd  and  incomprehensible  to 
them  as  he  was,  there  would  have  been  nothing 
strange  in  their  suspecting  him  of  conspiring  for  the 
re-establishment  of  the  Inquisition,  or  even  of  eating 
the  raw  flesh  of  children ;  but  no  one  in  the  place 
could  ever  conceive  the  possibility  of  a  man  who  was 
so  pale,  so  emaciated,  so  melancholy,  and  so  absorbed 
in  his  work,  indulging  in  gallantry  or  being  himself 
an  object  of  admiration  to  the  fair  sex. 

For  all  these  reasons  no  one  saw  anything  evil  in 
or  criticised  the  friendship  and  the  familiar  inter- 
course between  Dofla  Luz  and  Father  Enrique,  who, 
indeed,  met  and  conversed  together,  and  allowed  their 
innocent  and  unreserved  admiration  for  each  other  to 
be  observed  only  in  the  small  circle,  outside  which 
nothing  was  carried,  and  inside  which  everything  was 
explained  in  the  simplest  manner,  or  rather  was  not 
explained,  since  neither  for  Don  Anselmo  and  his 
daughter  and  son-in-law,  nor  for  Don  Acisclo  nor 
Don  Miguel  was  the  slightest  explanation  necessary. 
Don  Miguel,  the  parish  priest,  especially,  and  Don 
Acisclo,  each  in  his  own  way,  beheld  in  Dofla  Luz  and 
in  Father  Enrique  two  singular  beings,  whose  dis- 
course they  listened  to,  for  the  most  part,  as  if  it  were 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  117 

celestial  music  which  they  heard  without  comprehend- 
ing. There  was  nothing,  consequently,  more  just  or 
more  reasonable  than  that  these  two  beings  should 
communicate  to  each  other  thoughts  and  feelings 
which  they  only,  after  all,  were  able  to  understand. 

Meanwhile,  Dolia  Manolita,  who  was  very  observ- 
ant and  very  shrewd,  had  noticed  that  a  complete 
transformation  was  taking  place  in  the  mind  of  Don 
Acisclo.  Dofia  Manolita  had  communicated  the  re- 
sult of  her  observations  to  Dofia  Luz  and  to  Pepe 
G  lie  to. 

According  to  these  observations,  while  Don  Acisclo 
was  every  day  more  and  more  gratified  and  elated 
that  his  circle  should  have  become  so  learned  that  it 
seemed  an  academy,  at  the  same  time  he  went  about 
seemingly  very  much  preoccupied,  often  talking  to 
himself  as  if  a  swarm  of  thoughts  were  agitating 
themselves  in  his  brain,  and  like  the  bees  in  the  hive, 
striving  to  make,  instead  of  the  mellifluous  honey- 
comb, some  stupendous  resolution. 

"  "What  plan  has  he  in  his  mind  ?  "  Dofia  Mano- 
lita asked  herself.  "  What  if  the  finger  of  the  Al- 
mighty should  have  touched  his  heart  ?  What  if  the 
good  man,  edified  by  the  homilies  of  his  nephew, 
should  intend  to  embrace,  himself,  a  life  of  contem- 
plation, and  to  be  also  a  saint  ?  " 

Pepe  Giieto  and  Dofia  Luz  laughed  at  so  unlikely 
a  supposition,  but  the  truth  was  that  they,  too,  had 


118  DONA  LUZ. 

observed  the  thoughtfulness  of  Don  Acisclo,  and  felt 
no  little  curiosity  to  know  the  subject  of  his  medita- 
tions. 

In  Father  Enrique's  presence  they  did  not  dare  to 
question  Don  Acisclo,  but  Father  Enrique  always  left 
the  company  at  ten,  for  he  never  supped,  while  Pepe 
Giieto  and  his  wife  remained  to  sup  every  evening. 
The  supper  generally  lasted  till  eleven,  the  family  sit- 
ting a  long  time  at  table,  while  the  servants  supped  in 
their  turn,  this  being  the  hour  of  greatest  gayety  and 
least  restraint. 

On  several  occasions,  sitting  in  this  way  around 
the  table  after  supper,  when  the  maids  had  left  the 
room,  Doila  Manolita  had  felt  her  way  to  see  if  she 
could  draw  from  Don  Acisclo  the  cause  of  his  preoc- 
cupation. 

Don  Acisclo,  while  he  denied  that  he  was  preoccu- 
pied, or  that  there  was  even  cause  for  his  being  so, 
showed  more  and  more  plainly  every  day  that  such 
was  the  case. 

One  evening,  then,  Don  x\scisclo  seemed  to  be 
more  preoccupied,  but  also  gayer  than  usual.  Some 
secret  joy  was  bubbling  up  in  his  breast,  as  it  were, 
and  seeking  an  outlet  at  his  lips. 

Dofia  Manolita  saw  this,  and  said  : 

"  Come,  Don  Acisclo,  don't  be  perverse.  Don't 
torment  yourself  only  for  the  pleasure  of  tormenting 
yourself.     If  you  are  dying  to  tell  what  is  going  on, 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  119 

why  do  you  not  tell  it  ?  You  are  making  ready  some 
surprise  which  is  to  astound  us  all.  The  business  is 
well  advanced.  Tell  us  what  it  is,  so  that  we  may  be 
prepared  for  it." 

"  Yes,  Don  Acisclo,  tell  us  what  it  is,"  added  Pepe 
Gueto.  "  My  wife  insists  upon  it  that  you  are  dying 
to  be  a  saint  like  your  nephew,  and  that  the  day  least 
expected  you  will  abandon  us  all  and  take  yourself  off 
to  Sierra  Morena,  to  do  penance  there,  hiding  yourself 
in  some  thicket  or  cave." 

"  That  is  the  thing  furthest  from  my  thoughts," 
said  Don  Acisclo.  "  I  have  no  vocation  for  holiness, 
and  one  can  serve  God  in  any  state  in  life." 

"  There  is  not  a  doubt  of  that,"  said  Dona  Luz. 
"  I  never  supposed  you  would  take  a  notion  to  follow 
the  example  of  hermits  and  penitents,  but  I  too  have 
thought,  like  my  friends,  that  you  have  been  meditat- 
ing and  preparing  for  some  days  past  a  change  in 
your  condition  and  your  manner  of  life." 

"  These  women  are  the  very  devil,"  said  Don  Acis- 
clo. "  One  can  hide  nothing  from  them.  They  see 
into  everything.  I  neither  can  nor  will  deny  it  any 
longer.  I  am  going  to  be  another  being  henceforth. 
I  confess  that  my  nephew's  example  has  served  me  as 
a  stimulus." 

"Did  I  not  say  so?"  exclaimed  Dofia  Manolita. 
"  Don  Acisclo,  are  you  going  to  leave  us  ?  Are  you 
going  to  China  or  to  India  to  convert  the  heathen  ?  " 


120  DOSfA  LUZ. 

"  Something  of  that  there  is,"  responded  Don 
Acisclo.  "  I  am  going  to  convert  the  heathen,  but  for 
the  present,  without  leaving  Villafria." 

"  And  how  is  that  going  to  be  ? "  said  Dofia 
Luz, 

"  Very  simply,"  continued  Don  Acisclo.  "  You 
already  know  that  I  have  been  and  am  now,  be  it  said 
among  ourselves,  casting  vanity  aside,  a  man  useful  to 
my  country.  I  contribute  to  the  advancement  of 
agriculture.  I  add  to  the  wealth  of  the  country.  I 
feed  the  poor  who  are  willing  to  work.  In  short,  I 
am  a  useful  man." 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  praise  yourself. 
Who  does  not  acknowledge,"  said  Pepe  Giieto,  "  that 
you  are  the  providence  of  Villafria  ?  " 

"  Very  well ;  all  this  I  do  with  the  money  I  have 
made  myself.  I  have  had,  and  I  still  have  the  capacity 
to  make  money.  But  seeing  that  my  nephew  has  ac- 
quired knowledge  and  fame,  I  comprehend  that  money 
is  not  enough,  and  that  there  are  other  things  which 
are  worth  almost  more  than  money.  Knowledge,  for 
instance.  But  how  acquire  it  ?  The  reed  is  now  too 
hard  to  make  pipes  of.  It  is  now  too  late  for  me  to 
bury  myself  in  books.  There  is  something  else,  how- 
ever, which  attracts  me,  which  seduces  me,  and  which 
it  is  not  yet  too  late  for  me  to  acquire." 

"  What  may  it  be  ?  What  may  it  not  be  ?  "  mur- 
mured Dofia  Manolito. 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  121 

"  Guess,  child  ;  give  us  a  proof  of  your  wit ;  show 
that  you  can  see  the  grass  grow." 

"  I  confess  that  I  am  a  fool ;  I  can  not  give  a 
guess.  Since  you  aspire  to  be  neither  a  savant  nor  a 
saint,  to  what  do  you  aspire  ?  " 

"  I  aspire  to  power.  Power  is  the  complement  of 
money.  I  wish  to  be  a  politician,  a  man  of  influence, 
the  master  of  this  electoral  district,  defeating  the 
leader  of  the  capital  of  the  district,  who  is  at  present 
all  powerful  here." 

"What  has  put  such  notions  into  your  head,  Don 
Acisclo,"  asked  Dofia  Luz. 

"  My  political  convictions,"  responded  Don  Acisclo, 
with  the  utmost  gravity, 

"Your  political  convictions?  You  astound  me. 
Why,  whence  do  these  convictions  proceed  ?  I  sup- 
posed you  had  never  given  a  thought  to  politics  in 
the  whole  course  of  your  life." 

"Let  us  understand  each  other,"  replied  Don 
Acisclo.  "  To  the  politics  which  serves  as  a  pretext  or 
cloak,  it  is  true  that  I  have  never  given  a  thought, 
but  of  true  politics  I  think  constantly." 

"  And  what  is  true  politics  ?  " 

"  True  politics  is  that  all  we  who  compose  the 
Spanish  nation  give  to  the  Government  every  year,  in 
different  ways,  more  than  the  half  of  what  the  soil, 
our  labor,  and  our  brains  put  together  produce.  Then 
the  Government,  now  in  the  form  of  salaries,  now  in 


122  l>o5fA  Luz. 

the  form  of  subsidies,  now  in  other  forms,  divides 
all  this  among  its  adherents.  In  this  way,  what  the 
Government  absorbs  in  contributions  is  diffused  again 
like  a  beneficent  rain.  Is  it  not  folly  in  me  to  pay 
my  debts  and  not  to  demand  what  is  due  me?  Is  it 
not  a  peace  of  stupidity  in  me  to  contribute  and  not 
to  distribute  ?  Would  it  not  be  wiser  in  me  to  imi- 
tate Don  Paco,  the  great  elector  of  this  district,  who 
pays  in  the  proportion  of  ten  and  receives  in  the  pro- 
portion of  eighty  ?  What !  Have  I  not  nephews, 
sons,  and  proteges  to  whom  to  give  sugar  plums? 
Would  not  a  cross  suit  me  as  if  made  to  order? 
Would  the  title  of  Excellency  be  unbecoming  to  me  ? 
Instead  of  paying  a  great  deal,  as  I  do  now,  and  re- 
ceiving nothing,  would  it  not  suit  me  divinely  to  pay 
less  and  to  receive  back  with  usury  all  and  more 
than  all  I  have  paid?  That  is  what  politics  is,  and 
that  is  why  I  wish  to  enter  politics.  Why  do  I  say 
I  wish  to  enter  it  ?  I  am  already  plunged  up  to  my 
neck  in  politics." 

Dofla  Luz  was  far  from  believing  politics  to  be 
what  Don  Acisclo  understood  by  the  word ;  but  seeing 
how  firmly  persuaded  he  was  that  it  was  nothing 
else  than  this,  and  noting,  too,  that  Pepe  Giieto  and 
his  wife  were  not  far  from  being  of  Don  Acisclo's 
opinion,  she  did  not  wish  to  preach  to  deaf  ears,  nor 
try  to  convince  her  friends  that  the  true  conception 
of  politics  was  very  different  from   this.     She  was 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  123 

greatly  shocked,  too,  by  the  tortuous  course  of  reason- 
ing by  which  the  mind  of  Don  Acisclo  had  arrived 
at  the  conclusion,  based  on  the  homilies,  philisophico- 
Christian  dissertations,  and  other  the  like  lofty  dis- 
quisitions of  Father  Enrique,  that  he  himself  ought 
to  be  a  politician  to  the  end  that  he  might  pay  fewer 
contributions  and  receive  much  distribution. 

Concerning  this  latter  point  Dofla  Luz  could  not 
help  saying  : 

"  Granting  even — which  is  conceding  a  great  deal 
— ^that  politics  is  what  you  take  it  to  be,  it  surprises 
me,  Don  Acisclo,  that  you  should  have  founded  your 
resolution  to  enter  politics,  defeat  Don  Paco,  and 
yourself  take  his  place  on  the  discourses  of  your 
nephew." 

"  Look  here,  Seiiorita  Dofia  Luz,"  responded  Don 
Acisclo,  "  nothing  can  be  plainer  than  the  line  of 
argument  I  have  pursued.  Enrique  has  encouraged 
me  without  himself  being  aware  of  it.  Through  him 
I  have  learned  that  in  our  family  there  is  material 
for  everything.  He  is  a  saint  and  a  savant — the  man 
of  theory.  I  am  rich.  Why  should  I  not  also  be 
influential,  that  I  may  be  the  typical,  practical  man. 
Were  there  not  in  ancient  times  in  a  single  family 
Mary  and  Martha  ?  Why  should  we  not  be  now  in  a 
single  family,  with  the  difference  of  sex,  he  Mary,  I 
Martha — he  the  man  of  contemplation,  I  the  man  of 
action  ?  " 


124  DOSfA  LUZ. 

"  Good  for  Don  Acisclo,"  said  Pepe  Giieto. 

"  And  he  has  reason  on  his  side,"  added  Dofia 
Manolita ;  "  he  knows  where  the  shoe  pinches." 

"Just  put  your  finger  in  my  mouth  and  see 
whether  I  will  bite  it  or  not,"  exclaimed  Don  Acisclo. 
"  What !  Is  a  man  with  all  my  millions,  and  with  so 
distinguished  a  nephew  as  mine,  to  be  all  his  miser- 
able life  humiliated  by  that  rascal  of  a  Don  Paco,  to 
whom  the  representative  gives  all  and  more  than  all 
he  asks  for  ?  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,  Don  Acisclo,"  said  Pepe 
Giieto,  allowing  himself  to  be  carried  away  by  his 
enthusiasm.     "  It  is  necessary  to  shake  off  the  yoke." 

"  Death  to  Don  Paco,  the  tyrant ! "  cried  Dofla 
Manolita,  laughing. 

"  It  is  to  be  understood  that  the  death  is  merely 
political,  and  not  civil  or  natural,"  interrupted  Dofla 
Luz. 

"  And  how  are  you  going  to  manage  to  kill  him 
politically?"  asked  Pepe  Giieto. 

"How  am  I  going  to  manage?  How  have  I 
managed?  is  what  you  should  ask.  What!  Am  I 
the  man  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  my  feet  ?  I  have 
it  all  arranged.  The  minister  counts  upon  me.  The 
governor  of  the  province  counts  upon  me.  I  have 
proved  to  them  that  the  representative  we  send  from 
here  is  not  a  real  representative  but  a  counterfeit  one, 
and  as  he  is  now  in  the  opposition  the  Government 


AN  ILLUSTRIOUS  CANDIDATE.  125 

will  defeat  him  with  my  help  in  the  new  elections, 
which  are  soon  to  take  place." 

*'  And  who  is  the  new  candidate  of  the  Govern- 
ment ?  "  asked  Dofia  Manolita. 

"  An  illustrious  candidate,  a  man  with  a  brilliant 
future  before  him,  a  hero  of  the  African  war,"  said 
Don  Acisclo  very  pompously.  "  I  have  taken  him 
under  my  protection.  I  will  work  miracles  for  him ; 
I  will  bring  to  our  side  the  partisans  of  Don  Paco, 
who  will  then  be  left  unsupported,  and  my  man  will 
come  in  by  an  immense  majority." 

"  And  what  is  the  name  of  your  man  ? "  asked 
Pepe  Giieto. 

"  His  name  is  Don  Jaime  Pimentel  y  Moncada, 
brigadier  of  cavalry,  a  man  as  bravo  as  the  Cid,  of 
noble  lineage,  young,  and  handsome.  You  shall  see 
him  presently,  you  shall  see  him  presently,  for  he  is 
soon  coming  to  visit  the  district." 

With  this  important  piece  of  intelligence  the  con- 
versation terminated,  partly  because  it  was  now  late, 
and  partly  because  the  noisy  acclamations  of  Dofla 
Manolita  and  of  Pepe  Giieto,  prevented  it  proceeding 
further  on  this  evening. 


126  DOSfA  LUZ. 

XL 

PREPARATIONS   FOR  THE  ELECTION. 

Don  Acisclo's  plan  had  been  long  meditated  over 
in  secret,  and  it  was  so  well  devised,  arranged,  and 
perfected  that  there  was  no  little  probability  of  its 
success. 

The  enterprise,  however,  was  difficult,  almost  im- 
possible, indeed,  for  any  one  who  did  not  possess  the 
activity,  the  authority,  the  influence,  and  the  money 
possessed  by  Don  Acisclo. 

Don  Paco,  the  chief  elector,  was  a  person  of  im- 
portance, and  counted  upon  electing  a  model  repre- 
sentative— a  representative  like  whom  it  was  not  pos- 
sible to  suppose  that  a  dozen  others  could  be  found 
in  all  Spain. 

According  to  the  most  reliable  statistics,  the  sal- 
aries, gratuities,  and  favors  of  various  kinds,  computed 
in  currency,  lavished  by  the  representative  upon  his 
adherents  in  the  district,  all  drawn  from  the  national 
treasury,  amounted  to  twenty  times  more  than  the 
sum  paid  into  it  by  the  district  in  the  form  of  direct 
and  indirect  contributions.  Supposing  for  a  single 
instant  that  all  the  other  representatives  were  equally 
able,  clever,  fortunate,  and  generous  with  the  repre- 
sentative in  question,  the  Government  would  either 
have  to  renew  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  and  fishes  on 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.        127 

an  immense  scale,  or  would  have  to  show  a  deficit  at 
the  end  of  the  year  of  nineteen  times  the  amount  of 
the  entire  resources  and  revenues  of  the  state  for  the 
same  period. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  there  are  so  few  repre- 
sentatives to  be  found  in  Spain  like  the  one  whom 
Don  Acisclo  proposed  to  himself  to  defeat.  He  was, 
par  excellence^  what  is  called  a  natural  representa- 
tive. 

The  representative,  by  unceasing  vigilance  and  by 
the  exercise  of  a  marvelous  art,  acquires  this  natural- 
ness in  a  district,  distributing  places  lavishly,  while, 
to  obtain  these  places  from  the  Government,  he  relies, 
in  addition  to  his  talents  and  his  personal  impor- 
tance, on  the  loyalty  which  he  affirms  and  proves  that 
the  electors  bear  him,  and  by  virtue  of  which  he  is  a 
natural  representative,  and  enjoys  his  district  by  a 
twofold  right. 

Although  the  natural  representative  may  be  on 
the  side  of  the  opposition,  he  still  keeps  his  district 
for  two  reasons.  The  first  reason  is  that  when  he  is 
out  of  power  the  electors  have  the  hope  that  he  and 
his  party  will  soon  come  into  power  again,  and  that 
they  will  then  receive  fresh  favors.  The  second  rea- 
son is  that  the  natural  representative,  even  when  he 
is  not  in  power,  succeeds  in  keeping  many  of  his 
proteges  in  their  employments,  and  often  even  has  in 
his  gift  important  places,  whether  because  the  privi- 


128  DONA  LUZ. 

leges  of  natural  representative  qualify  him  for  all 
this  or  because  he  has  influential  friends  in  the  min- 
istry, or  because  the  ministers,  his  opponents,  treat 
his  wishes  with  consideration,  expecting  a  reciprocity 
of  favors  when  they  shall  be  out  of  power. 

The  representative  against  whom  Don  Acisclo  was 
going  to  rebel  was  at  this  moment  out  of  power ; 
but  no  one  doubted  but  that  he  would  soon  come 
into  power  again.  Many  of  his  proteges  had  been 
dismissed,  but  many  also  still  retained  their  employ- 
ments and  received  their  salaries.  The  reputation 
enjoyed  by  the  representative  for  being  friendly, 
obliging,  and  potent  to  obtain  sugar  plums  was  so 
firmly  established  that  even  his  temporary  loss  of 
power  augmented  instead  of  diminishing  the  number 
of  his  adlierents.  The  most  astute  and  far-seeing  of 
these  saw  how  propitious  was  the  occasion  to  secure 
favor  with  him  by  serving  him  while  he  was  out  of 
power,  which  would  give  a  certain  air  of  disinterest- 
edness to  such  services,  this  course  of  procedure  being 
what  is  there  called  in  terse  and  elegant  language,  in 
harmony  with  the  poetry  of  bucolic  life,  "  To  carry 
straws  to  the  nest."  "  He  who  does  not  carry  straws 
to  the  nest  seldom  gets  a  share  of  the  prey,"  I  have 
often  heard  the  most  sententious  personage  of  that 
part  of  the  country  say. 

This  being  the  situation  of  affairs,  Don  Acisclo's 
purpose  of  defeating  and  supplanting  Don  Paco  seems 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.        129 

a  rash  and  insane  attempt,  somewhat  resembling  the 
attempt  of  the  serpent  in  the  fable  to  bite  the  file.         ' 

But  one  must  not  be  discouraged  by  obstacles  like 
these  or  even  greater  ones.  Don  Acisclo  was  not  dis- 
couraged. He  had  confidence  in  his  own  energy,  and 
was  resolved  to  fight  with  Don  Paco,  whose  tyranny 
had  rendered  him  insufferable  to  him.  What  Don 
Acisclo  had  well  considered,  however,  like  a  prudent 
leader,  was  the  colossal  and  serious  character  of  his 
enterprise,  and  in  order  to  carry  it  to  a  favorable 
termination  he  had  taken  every  necessary  precaution, 
provided  ways  and  means,  sought  allies,  and  collected 
forces  and  resources  of  every  description. 

When  a  representative,  or  the  grand  elector  in  his 
name,  bestows  an  office  he  is  not  always  sure  of  the 
gratitude  of  the  recipient,  for  the  latter  may  fancy 
that  he  has  well  earned  it,  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  envious,  the  grumblers,  and  the  discontented  seem 
to  spring  up  out  of  the  ground,  so  numerous  are  they 
— a  thing  difficult  to  be  avoided  ;  for  no  matter  how 
many  offices  a  representative  may  obtain,  he  can  not 
obtain  one  for  each  elector.  Among  the  employes 
and  the  successful  place-hunters  grumbling  and  envy 
are  not  unusual.  So-and-so  complains  that  some  one 
else  has  received  a  sweeter  and  richer  sugar  plum 
than  his ;  another  complains  that  the  employment  of 
such  a  one  is  of  great  importance,  while  his  is  insig- 
nificant, from  all  which   results  no  little  bitterness. 


130  I>O^A  LUZ. 

One  who  is  only  made  keeper  of  a  Government  shop 
thinks  he  ought  to  be  a  custom-house  officer;  and 
another,  who  has  been  made  a  mail  carrier,  and  is 
always  shut  up  in  his  wagon,  sighs  for  the  salt  stores, 
which  were  given  to  a  third,  who  disposed  in  the 
election  of  fewer  votes  than  he;  and  he  who,  as  a 
loyal  adherent,  has  obtained  the  salt  stores,  fancies 
himself  slighted  because  he  was  not  appointed  a 
keeper  of  the  magazine,  for  this  and  much  more  was 
his  due.  The  post  of  alcalde  is  generally  greatly  dis- 
puted, and  there  are  almost  always  two  or  three  who 
are  dissatisfied  because  it  has  not  been  given  to  them. 
In  short,  even  if  the  representative  and  his  alter-ego^ 
Don  Paco,  were  as  prudent  and  as  wise  as  Ulysses, 
whom  Minerva  herself,  descending  ad  hoc  from  Olym- 
pus, inspired  with  the  strictest  distributive  justice  to 
distribute  portions  of  roasted  ox  at  the  banquets  of  the 
heroes  of  the  "  Iliad,"  or  whether  because  to  distribute 
sugar  plums  is  a  more  arduous  task  than  to  distribute 
roast  beef  or,  finally,  because  the  electors  of  Spain 
are  by  nature  more  discontented  than  Avere  the  demi- 
gods and  Achaian  warriors,  the  fact  is  that  discon- 
tent spread  until  it  extended  to  the  very  capital  of  the 
district. 

All  this  discontent  would  have  been  of  no  conse- 
quence, and  would  have  vanished  like  a  summer  cloud 
if  Don  Acisclo,  with  Machiavellian  arts,  had  not 
fanned  the  flame  of  discord,  feeding  it  with  ingenu- 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.        131 

ously  contrived  misrepresentations,  artfully  insinuated, 
and  raised  at  an  opportune  moment  a  standard  of 
revolt,  to  which  flocked  those  who  thought  themselves 
slighted  or  ill-requited  for  their  efforts. 

In  this  way  Don  Acisclo  succeeded  in  forming  a 
powerful  electoral  minority,  whose  center  and  nucleus 
was  Villafria. 

He  then  entered  into  negotiations  with  the  Gov- 
ernment, and  as  soon  as  the  Government  had  prom- 
ised its  support  Don  Acisclo,  in  order  to  defeat  the 
representative  of  Don  Paco  and  elect  in  his  stead  the 
before-mentioned  Don  Jaime  Pimentel,  strove  to  con- 
vert his  minority  into  a  majority,  attracting  to  his 
side  the  neutral  and  the  vacillating,  and  endeavoring 
especially  to  rouse  from  their  apathy  and  draw  into 
the  contest  certain  of  those  who  never  vote  or  take 
any  part  in  politics,  perhaps  because  they  have  no 
desire  for  Government  employments. 

Among  those  who  thus  disdained  to  take  any  part 
in  politics — worthy  of  reprobation,  to  my  mind,  be- 
cause they  leave  the  field  free  to  unscrupulous  poli- 
ticians— there  was  in  the  district  a  man  whom,  if  his 
apathy  could  once  be  overcome,  an  entire  town  would 
iollow.  This  town  was  that  which  my  readers  already 
know  by  the  name  of  Villabermeja.  The  electoral 
Cincinnatus  whom  Don  Acisclo  desired  to  move — be- 
cause with  him  on  his  side  he  regarded  his  victory  as 
beyond   a  doubt — was  my  distinguished  friend  Don 


132  DOSfA  LUZ. 

Juan  Fresco,  from  whose  lips  I  have  heard  this,  as 
well  as  many  other  stories  no  less  instructive,  which  I 
will  relate  in  due  course  of  time,  if  God  grants  me  life 
and  health. 

Don  Juan  Fresco  was  on  friendly  terms  with  Don 
Acisclo,  who  had  been  of  service  to  him  on  many  oc- 
casions ;  but  Don  Juan  Fresco  did  not  allow  himself 
to  be  easily  moved.  Don  Acisclo  had  ridden  out  to 
his  place  two  or  three  times  to  see  him.  He  had,  be- 
sides, written  to  him  four  or  five  letters  for  the  pur- 
pose of  winning  him  over  to  his  views,  but  without 
avail.  He  had  not  been  able  to  succeed  in  making 
him  break  his  resolution  or  depart  from  his  fixed  rule 
to  take  no  part  in  elections  or  politics. 

Don  Acisclo  was  by  turns  furious,  melancholy,  and 
desperate  on  account  of  this  obstinacy.  With  Don 
Juan  Fresco  on  his  side  his  enterprise  was  an  easy 
one ;  without  Don  Juan  Fresco,  notwithstanding  the 
support  of  the  Government,  the  victory  was  far  from 
being  assured. 

Meantime,  everything  else  being  ready,  and  the 
elections  near  at  hand,  nothing  remained  but  to  make 
public  the  name  of  the  candidate,  until  now  carefully 
kept  concealed  by  Don  Acisclo  and  the  Government; 
but  Don  Acisclo,  before  doing  this,  wished  to  try  for 
the  last  time  his  persuasive  powers  upon  Don  Juan, 
revealing  to  him  in  secret  the  name  of  the  candidate 
and  lauding  his  good  qualities  and  his  merits.     To 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.       133 

this  end  he  wrote  him  another  letter,  as  eloquent  as 
he  knew  how  to  make  it.  The  answer  of  Don  Juan 
reached  him  on  the  following  day,  and  its  satisfac- 
tory nature — so  different  from  what  Don  Acisclo  had 
feared  it  would  be — was  the  source  of  the  good  humor 
of  which  Dofla  Manolita  had  ventured  to  ask  the 
cause,  and  of  the  ease  and  readiness  with  which  he 
had  unfolded  his  plans,  as  has  been  related  to  Dofia 
Luz,  Pope  Giieto,  and  the  doctor's  daughter. 

The  letter  of  Don  Juan  Fresco  is  an  important 
document,  which  I  have  now  in  my  possession,  and 
which  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  reproduce  here. 

It  is  as  follows : 

"  Esteemed  sir  and  friend  :  Heretofore,  not- 
withstanding our  friendship,  I  have  felt  myself  com- 
pelled to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  your  persuasions.  And 
this  because  our  views  differ  in  many  respects.  We 
are  both  more  broad-minded  than  Riego  ;  we  are  both 
more  liberal  than  the  author  of  the  Citador — a  work 
which  you  have  doubtless  read ;  we  are  both  advocates 
of  progress  of  the  most  distinct  and  decided  type ;  and 
we  are  both  lovers  of  equality — meaning  by  this  equality 
before  the  law — which  may  exist  apart  from  and  inde- 
pendent of  the  inequalities  created  by  nature,  fortune, 
ability,  or  chance,  whereby  some  are  foolish  and  oth- 
ers wise,  some  rich  and  others  poor.  But,  notwith- 
standing the  perfect  harmony  in  our  sentiments,  there 


134  DOSfA  LUZ. 

are  between  you  and  me  certain  radical  differences, 
arising  from  the  fact  that  we  have  each  formed  to 
ourselves  a  very  different  ideal — meaning  by  ideal.,  a 
word  now  much  in  fashion,  the  aim  of  each  one's 
aspirations.  Your  ideal  is  that  there  should  be  a 
government  which  will  distribute  among  its  adherents 
all  there  is  to  be  distributed,  Avhich  shall  arrange 
everything,  which  shall  interfere  in  everything,  which 
shall  teach  us  what  we  are  to  learn,  point  out  to  us 
what  we  are  to  worship,  make  our  roads  for  us,  carry 
our  letters  for  us,  take  care  of  our  temporal  and  eter- 
nal welfare,  and  which  shall  even  destroy  for  us  the 
locust  and  the  phylloxera,  exorcise  storms,  hail 
showers,  epidemics,  the  epizooty,  and  drought,  and 
ordain  and  provide  for  us  timely  rains  and  abundant 
harvests.  A  Government  intrusted  with  such  and  so 
various  charges  will  have  need  of  a  great  deal  of 
money,  which  it  will  afterward  distribute  among 
those  who  are  to  make  us  happy,  bestowing  upon  us 
salvation,  knowledge,  riches,  health,  long  life,  water, 
means  of  locomotion,  and  all  that  constitutes  our  wel- 
fare and  comfort.  But,  you  say,  and  very  sensibly, 
looking  at  the  matter  from  your  point  of  view,  why 
should  it  not  be  I,  who  am  no  more  stupid  than  any 
one  else,  who,  in  part  if  not  altogether,  shall  under- 
take to  work  all  these  beneficent  and  providential 
wonders,  and  who  shall  receive  and  distribute  at  my 
pleasure  the  dollars  which,  in  doing  so,  it  will  be 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.        I35 

necessary  to  disburse.  Hence  springs  your  desire,  as 
if  it  were  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world,  to  create  a 
representative  who  shall  have  influence,  secure  power, 
and  obtain  sugar  plums ;  I,  on  the  other  hand,  con- 
fess that  I  have  an  ideal,  which  at  our  present  rate  of 
progress  will  not  be  realized,  if  it  be  ever  realized,  for 
ten  or  twelve  centuries  to  come  ;  but,  my  dear  friend, 
one  must  advance  toward  one's  ideal  even  if  only  at 
the  pace  of  the  tortoise.  My  ideal  is  the  least  govern- 
ment possible — almost  the  negation  of  government — a 
sort  of  mild  anarchy  compatible  with  order,  an  order 
springing  harmoniously  from  the  people,  not  from 
those  in  power.  I  do  not  desire  that  any  one  should 
teach  me ;  I  shall  learn  what  it  seems  best  to  me  to 
learn,  and  I  will  find  my  own  teachers ;  nor  that  any 
one  should  take  care  of  me,  for  I  will  take  care  of 
myself ;  not  that  any  one  should  make  roads  for  me,  I 
will  associate  myself  with  such  persons  as  I  may 
choose  to  make  them  for  myself.  I  know  that  this 
is  at  present  impossible,  for  they  say  that  the  indi- 
vidual has  no  mitiative ;  that  the  Government  must 
take  the  initiative  in  everything,  as  if  the  Government 
were  not  composed  of  individuals.  In  short,  it  is 
needless  that  I  should  repeat  here  all  the  reasons  that 
may  be  alleged  against  my  ideal  You  already  know 
them  only  too  well.  What  I  wish  to  put  on  record 
is  that,  notwithstanding  all  those  reasons,  I  am  enam- 
ored of  my  unrealizable  system,  and  I  regard  it  as 


136  DO^A  LUZ. 

apostasy  to  labor  in  behalf  of  that  ultra-gubernamen- 
tal  system  which  at  present  exists,  doubtless  because, 
as  a  wise  man  has  truly  said,  '  Humanity,  considered 
collectively,  has  not  yet  been  born.'  While  humanity 
remains  unborn,  if  we  are  to  look  at  things  super- 
ficially and  without  analyzing  them,  you  are  more 
than  right.  Since  the  question  is  one  of  contribu- 
tion and  distribution,  and  since  the  contribution  is 
compulsory,  it  would  be  well  to  take  possession  of  it 
in  order  to  make  the  distribution  presently,  especial- 
ly when  we  consider  that,  as  the  proverb  says,  'The 
carver  always  keeps  the  best  cut  for  himself.' 

"  But  when  we  look  closely  into  the  matter,  restrict- 
ing ourselves  to  one  electoral  district,  believe  me,  Don 
Acisclo,  even  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  and  if  we 
consider  oifr  present  interests  only  without  concern- 
ing ourselves  about  the  future,  my  system  is  better 
than  yours.  What  is  gained  by  distributing  places  at 
random?  The  district  does  not  grow  the  richer  by 
this.  The  inhabitants  who  receive  offices  spend  their 
salaries  out  of  it.  There  are  very  few  who  return  to 
the  district  to  spend  in  it  their  savings,  or  their  spoils. 
Frequently  there  are  no  such  savings,  or  if  there  are 
there  is  no  good  got  of  them.  They  vanish  or  evap- 
orate, as  it  were,  like  many  other  ill-gotten  gains. 
'  Easy  got,  easy  gone.'  Thus  the  employe,  through 
the  favor  of  the  representative,  acquires  habits  of 
luxury,  scorns  his  former  rustic  and  simple  way  of 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.        I37 

living,  and  accustoms  himself  to  let  the  clock  do 
his  work  and  earn  money  for  him,  ticking  away  the 
hours  and  days.  The  bad  example  infects  others. 
The  son  of  the  tradesman,  the  domestic  servant, 
every  one  who  knows  how  to  read  and  write,  be- 
comes disgusted  with  manual  labor  and  says  to  him- 
self :  *  Why  should  not  I,  too,  obtain  a  Government 
situation?  Why  should  not  the  representative  pro- 
vide a  good  place  for  me?'  He  who  has  not  the  re- 
motest hope  of  the  representative  giving  him  a  place 
is  filled  with  envy  and  rage,  and  grows  indifferent  and 
lazy  that  he  may  be  the  equal  of  the  employe,  of  the 
ease  and  pleasantness  of  whose  life  he  forms  an  ex- 
aggerated and  fantastic  conception.  He  fancies,  and 
no  one  can  drive  the  idea  from  his  mind — doubtless 
because  he  does  not  know  the  time  that  is  spent,  the 
paper  that  is  blotted,  and  the  anxieties  which  are  pro- 
duced by  our  complicated  system  of  transacting  offi- 
cial business — that  office  hours  are  spent  by  the  em- 
ployes in  pleasant  chats,  in  smoking  the  finest  cigars, 
and  in  refreshing  themselves  with  frequent  potations  ; 
and  it  is  supposed,  besides,  that  opportunities  to  do  a 
profitable  stroke  of  business  are  constantly  presenting 
themselves  to  every  employe  who  is  at  all  shrewd,  that 
such  a  one  has  frequent  chances  of  perquisites  and 
occasionally  is  offered  a  bribe.  With  such  notions, 
how  is  it  possible  that  a  man  should  be  satisfied  to  go 
dig  ditches,  and  is  it  not  natural  that  he  should  seek  to 


138  DONA  LUZ. 

convert  the  ditch  into  an  imitation  of  the  longed-for, 
delightful,  and  sybaritic  Government  office?  It  re- 
sults from  this  that,  as  the  representative  gives  places 
to  the  most  active,  efficient,  and  intelligent  men,  who 
naturally  leave  the  district  for  a  wider  field  of  action, 
that  only  the  most  stupid,  good-for-nothing,  and  in- 
efficient remain  in  it ;  and  these,  aggrieved  and 
wounded  in  their  self-love,  or  discouraged  and  with 
but  little  inclination  for  work.  Consequently,  there 
is  neither  industry  nor  art,  nor  advancement,  nor 
progress  possible.  Thanks  to  the  lavish  favors  of  the 
representative,  the  district  grows  poorer  instead  of 
richer  and  is  transformed  into  a  nest  of  idlers  and 
good  -  for  -  nothings.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I, 
through  pure  love  for  the  district,  do  not  desire  to 
give  it  an  able  representative  like  the  one  we  have 
now.  I  do  not  wish  to  give  it  a  representative  who 
procures  and  distributes  so  many  sugar  plums. 

"  Fortunately,  your  candidate's  name  has  suggested 
to  me  the  thought  that  in  supporting  him  and  thereby 
gratifying  you,  I  shall  also  contribute  to  the  welfare 
of  the  district,  as  I  understand  it.  I  shall  free  it 
from  the  blighting  protection  of  the  present  repre- 
sentative, who  seems  to  be  a  very  manufacturer  of 
sugar  plums,  and  I  shall  provide  it  with  a  representa- 
tive who  will  tell  you  as  soon  as  you  have  elected  him 
that  if  he  has  ever  seen  you  before  he  is  not  aware  of 
it  and  will  give  you  no  sugar  plum,  and,  as  a  conse- 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  ELECTION.       139 

quence,  agriculture  may  again  flourish,  useful  indus- 
tries be  created,  and  the  corruption  which  is  to-day 
eating  away  the  core  of  society  disappear.  Yes, 
friend  Don  Acisclo,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Don 
Jaime  Pimentel  when  I  was  in  Madrid  with  my 
poor  niece  Maria  and  that  eccentric  Dr.  Faustino. 
*  Birds  of  a  feather  flock  together.'  Although  they 
differed  in  many  respects,  in  many  others  they  resem- 
bled each  other.  Don  Jaime,  at  that  time  very  young, 
was  a  perfect  Adonis.  Always  dressed  in  the  height 
of  the  fashion,  powdered  and  perfumed  and  neat  as  a 
pin,  although  he  was  a  brave  soldier,  there  was  more 
of  Cupid  than  of  Mars  in  his  appearance.  I  do  not 
think  he  was  a  dreamer  or  an  enthusiast  like  his 
friend  the  doctor.  Don  Jaime  always  went  straight 
to  the  point.  Handsome,  bold,  and  discreet,  he  had 
already  had  several  much  talked  of  love  affairs  with 
ladies  of  distinction,  and  he  had  fought  three  or  four 
duels,  in  all  of  which  he  had  come  off  the  victor.  A 
brilliant  future  was  at  that  time  predicted  for  him. 
The  prediction  is  being  fulfilled.  He  is  not  yet  forty 
and  he  is  already  a  brigadier.  On  his  family's  ac- 
count, as  well  as  for  his  own  personal  qualities,  he  is 
greatly  esteemed  and  liked.  In  addition  to  his  pay 
he  has  a  small  income,  which  makes  him  independent 
and  enables  him  to  live  comfortably.  Don  Jaime 
must  have  two  thousand  dollars  a  year.  He  has  no 
need  of  this  district.     I  can  not  understand  why  he 


140  D05fA  LUZ. 

should  desire  to  represent  it  when  he  might  represent 
any  district  he  chose.  He  owns  in  the  neighborhood 
of  this  town  an  olive  plantation  which  his  father,  a 
soldier  like  himself,  bought  with  money  won  at  play. 
This  is  the  only  bond,  so  far  as  I  know,  that  attaches 
him  to  this  district.  I  repeat,  then,  that  I  can  not 
understand  why  he  should  wish  to  be  our  representa- 
tive; but  I  take  it  for  granted  that  once  he  has  at- 
tained his  desire  he  will  turn  his  back  upon  us,  send 
us  about  our  business,  and  not  give  us  an  atom  of 
sugar  plum.  As  this  is  precisely  my  most  cherished 
wish,  I  have  resolved  (remaining  silent  as  to  my  rea- 
sons in  order  not  to  alarm  your  other  adherents)  to 
support  your  candidate.  Count  upon  me,  therefore, 
to  elect  Don  Jaime  Pimentel  representative,  and  be- 
lieve me  your  affectionate  friend." 

This  was  the  letter  that  had  so  greatly  rejoiced  the 
heart  of  Don  Acisclo.  The  chief  thing  was  that  Don 
Juan  should  aid  him  in  his  undertaking,  be  his  motive 
what  it  might.  All  Don  Acisclo  desired  was  his  sup- 
port, and  he  was  little  alarmed  by  the  fantastic  rea- 
sons and  direful  prognostics  in  which  it  was  founded, 
and  which  he  took  good  care  to  keep  to  himself. 
Only  now  and  then,  while  praising  extravagantly  the 
integrity,  discretion,  honesty  and  wisdom  of  Don 
Juan  Fresco,  Don  Acisclo  would  declare  that  he  was 
a  lunatic. 


THE  TRIUMPH.  141 

"And  why  do  you  say  that  this  Don  Juan  is  a 
lunatic  ?  "  Dofia  Manolita  once  asked  him. 

"  Why  should  I  say  so  ?  "  answered  Don  Acisclo. 
"Because  he  is  a  lunatic^  because  he  is  the  most 
utterly  absurd  creature  I  have  ever  met  with  in  the 
whole  course  of  my  life." 


XII. 

THE   TRIUMPH. 


Lunatic  or  no  lunatic,  Don  Juan  Fresco  was  of 
great  assistance  to  Don  Acisclo,  who  the  greater  his 
hopes  of  success  worked  all  the  more  actively,  and 
was  all  the  more  anxious  that  those  hopes  should  not 
be  frustrated. 

The  information  Don  Juan  had  given  him  con- 
cerning the  unfriendly  character  of  Don  Jaime 
Pimentel  disturbed  him  somewhat,  it  is  true.  There 
was  no  way  of  retreating  now,  however,  and  the  first 
thing  necessary  to  be  done  was  to  defeat  Don  Paco, 
although  in  order  to  do  so  it  should  be  necessary  to 
make  use  of  the  candidate  least  diligent  in  seeking 
sugar  plums,  most  forgetful  of  his  adherents,  and 
most  indifferent  to  their  good-will  to  be  found  in  the 
whole  kingdom. 

Don   Acisclo  was  of  a  hopeful  nature,  and  the 


142  DOSta  luz. 

very  neglect  of  his  future  representative,  which  any 
other  man  would  have  regarded  as  a  thing  to  be 
regretted,  gave  rise  at  times  in  his  mind  to  the  most 
pleasing  anticipations,  by  encouraging  his  own  am- 
bitious views. 

"  If  the  representative  refuses  to  perform  his  part," 
said  Don  Acisclo  to  himself,  "if  he  does  not  fulfill 
his  promises  and  reward  the  services  of  the  electors  I 
shall  have  to  attend  to  their  claims,  which  will  give 
me  an  opportunity  of  coming  into  relations  with  the 
governor  of  the  province — perhaps  even  with  the  min- 
ister— and,  being  myself  the  real  master  here,  with- 
out the  annoying  intervention  of  the  representative. 
The  chief  thing,  then,  is  to  obtain  the  victory  with  a 
large  majority,  and  show  that  Don  Paco  is  only  an  in- 
strument in  my  hands." 

To  accomplish  this  end  Don  Acisclo  left  no  means 
unemployed. 

The  elections  were  to  take  place  in  the  autumn, 
and  he  spent  the  summer  in  a  state  of  feverish  ac- 
tivity. 

He  visited  on  horseback  all  the  towns  and  villages 
(seven  in  number)  in  the  district,  gaining  votes  for 
his  prottge  and  lessening  the  number  of  Don  Pace's 
adherents.  He  even  visited  the  capital  of  the  district 
several  times,  and  not  without  result,  with  the  same 
object  in  view. 

Not  a  few  of  the  influential  electors  whom  Don 


THE  TRIUMPH.  143 

Paco  held  bound  were  released  by  Don  Acisclo,  who 
used  his  wealth  generously.  To  be  bounds  in  the 
electoral  language  of  the  district,  is  to  owe  money  to 
the  chief  elector.  Don  Acisclo  was  more  than  liberal. 
He  distributed  at  least  eight  thousand  dollars,  at  ten 
per  cent  interest,  without  any  other  security  than  sim- 
ple promissory  notes,  freeing  also  persons  held  bound 
by  Don  Paco  by  legal  documents  and  money  lent  at 
fifteen  per  cent. 

The  electors  of  Villafria  had,  previously  to  this, 
been  in  the  habit  of  going  to  vote  to  a  neighboring 
village,  as  there  was  no  table  in  Villafria.  Don  Acis- 
clo succeeded  in  having  the  table  taken  from  the 
aforesaid  village  and  given  to  Villafria,  which,  as  he 
demonstrated,  was  more  central  and  convenient. 

In  Villafria  Don  Acisclo  was  certain  that  he  could 
"  turn  over  the  pucker o  "  in  favor  of  Don  Jaime. 

To  "  turn  over  the  puchero  "  means  to  secure  all 
the  votes  possible  for  the  candidate  whom  it  is  desired 
to  elect.  "  All  the  votes  possible  "  are  the  votes  of  all 
the  electors  whose  names  are  inscribed  on  the  lists, 
provided  they  are  not  a  thousand  leagues  away  or 
dead  and  buried,  although  there  have  been  instances 
in  which  not  only  the  absent  but  even  the  dead  have 
voted. 

The  electoral  annals  of  the  district  relate  that  as 
soon  as  Don  Paco  had  discovered  what  Don  Acis- 
clo was  plotting  against  him,  rousing  himself  from 

10 


144  DOSfA  LUZ. 

the  apathy,  or  rather  from  the  state  of  serene  and 
confident  tranquillity  in  which  his  absolute  certainty 
as  to  the  result  had  up  to  the  present  held  him,  he 
set  himself  to  work  to  counteract  the  designs  of  his 
opponent.  This  naturally  caused  Don  Acisclo  to  re- 
double his  activity.  Thus  it  was  that  he  had  not  a 
moment's  rest.  His  life  was  a  ceaseless  round  of  con- 
ferences, excursions  to  this  village  or  that,  making  of 
treaties,  letter  writing,  and  letter  reading.  Pepe  Giieto 
constituted  himself  the  assistant  and  secretary  of. Don 
Acisclo,  and  he  too  wrote,  traveled,  and  conferred. 

Dofla  Luz  and  Dofla  Manolita,  thus  deserted  by 
Don  Acisclo  and  Pepe  Giieto,  found  companionship 
in  each  other's  society ;  and  both  found  a  companion 
in  Father  Enrique,  the  only  man,  perhaps,  in  the 
whole  district  who  took  no  active  part  in  the  election. 

The  priest  had  manifested  an  interest  in  it  only  in 
the  beginning,  when  he  had  sought  to  dissuade  Don 
Acisclo  from  mixing  himself  up  with  politics;  but 
Don  Acisclo  never  allowed  himself  to  be  persuaded  by 
any  one,  and  when  his  nephew  saw  that  this  was  the 
case  he  ceased  his  efforts,  and  never  again  even  al- 
lowed it  to  be  perceived  that  he  so  much  as  knew  in 
what  a  mare  magnum  his  uncle  was  engulfed. 

The  latter  had  already  begun  to  be  seriously  an- 
noyed by  the  indolence  and  want  of  punctuality  of 
the  candidate.  The  candidate  had  promised  to  visit 
the  district ;  the  elections  were  now  near  at  hand  and 


THE  TKIUMPH.  145 

Don  Jaime  had  not  come.  His  opponent  was  already 
installed  in  the  house  of  Don  Paco,  promising  places 
when  he  should  again  return  to  power,  which  would 
be  soon,  selling  his  influence,  and  gaining  the  good- 
will of  the  electors. 

Don  Jaime,  meanwhile,  not  only  had  not  come, 
but  scarcely  ever  even  deigned  to  write,  except  to  Don 
Acisclo,  and  this  only  at  rare  intervals,  and  in  a  dry 
and  laconic  style. 

But  be  this  as  it  might,  matters  had  now  gone  too 
far  for  Don  Acisclo  to  retreat.  His  honor  was  at 
stake  in  the  result,  and  even  if  Don  Jaime  had  been 
Satan  himself,  he  would  still  have  moved  heaven  and 
earth  to  secure  his  triumph  in  the  coming  contest. 

In  short,  not  to  weary  my  readers,  I  will  say  here 
that  Don  Acisclo  reaped  at  last  the  reward  of  his 
labors. 

The  day  of  the  election  arrived,  and  Don  Acisclo 
triumphed.  Don  Jaime  Pimentel  was  elected  repre- 
sentative of  the  district  by  a  large  majority. 

There  were  some  who  hinted  that  Don  Acisclo  se- 
cured this  result  by  means  of  trickery  and  deceit ;  but 
this  could  not  be  proved ;  we  should,  consequently,  re- 
fuse to  give  ear  to  their  insinuations. 

Don  Jaime  Pimentel,  without  having  stirred  from 
the  capital,  almost  without  having  written  a  letter, 
without  concerning  himself  in  the  least  in  the  mat- 
ter, had  the  satisfaction  of  receiving  the  official  notifi- 


146  DONA  LUZ. 

cation  of  his  election,  with  only  two  insignilBcant  and 
ill-grounded  protests  appended  to  it. 

Don  Acisclo's  rejoicing  over  the  victory  was  great. 
What  a  triumph  was  his  !  What  a  convincing  proof 
of  his  power  had  just  been  given !  With  an  invisible, 
careless,  and  indolent  candidate,  with  so  powerful,  so 
remarkable,  so  skillful  an  opponent,  a  very  phoenix 
and  model  of  electors,  he  had  succeeded  in  gaining 
the  victory,  and  gaining  the  victory  by  a  large  ma- 
jority. After  giving  due  credit  to  his  own  wonderful 
capacity  for  politics,  he  acknowledged  himself  in- 
debted for  the  victory  only  to  Don  Juan  Fresco  and 
the  numerous  crowd  of  Bermejans  who,  on  the  day  of 
the  election,  had  rallied  round  him  as  their  respected 
leader. 

During  all  this  time  the  friendly  relations  existing 
between  Dofla  Luz  and  Father  Enrique  had  been 
growing  gradually  closer.  Even  Dofla  Manolita, 
whether  it  was  that  she  allowed  herself  to  be  carried 
away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  her  husband  or  that  she 
shared  this  enthusiasm  herself,  had  no  thought  for 
anything  but  the  election. 

Dofla  Luz  and  the  priest  were  to  a  certainty  the 
only  two  persons  of  any  importance  in  the  district 
who  had  not  made  either  one  of  the  candidates  the 
subject  of  their  thoughts,  or  set  their  hearts  on  the 
triumph  of  either. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  political  agitation  they 


THE  TRIUMPH.  147 

had  found  delightful  retirement  in  the  house  of  its 
chief  promoter,  and  here  took  place  the  calm  and 
lofty  discussions,  the  pleasant  conversations  in  which 
Dofla  Luz  always  learned  something,  in  which  she 
continually  discovered  new  perfections  in  the  under- 
standing and  the  heart  of  the  priest,  and  in  which 
Father  Enrique,  on  his  side,  was  never  weary  of  ad- 
miring the  vigor  and  acuteness  of  intellect,  the  singu- 
lar discretion,  the  poetic  fancy,  and  the  exquisite  sen- 
sibility of  his  beautiful  interlocutor. 

Don  Anselmo  had  occasionally  taken  part  in  these 
conversations,  though  more  rarely  than  formerly,  for 
Don  Acisclo  had  enlisted  his  interest,  too,  in  the  elec- 
tion. And  Don  Miguel,  the  parish  priest,  had  been 
a  constant  attendant  at  the  reunions,  although  the 
learned  discussions  between  Father  Enrique  and  Dofla 
Luz  exercised  over  him  so  potent  a  spell  that  after 
listening  for  a  few  minutes  he  would  fall  fast  asleep, 
accompanying  and  animating  the  conversation  at 
times  with  the  music  of  loud  and  prolonged  snores. 

It  resulted  from  all  this  that  the  only  person  who 
was  in  reality  a  constant  and  observant  witness  of  the 
mutual  affection  of  Dofla  Luz  and  Father  Enrique 
and  a  listener  to  their  familiar  colloquies  was  Dofla 
Manolita.  I  have  no  desire  to  make  the  latter,  nor 
any  other  of  my  heroes  or  heroines,  appear  better 
than  they  are,  or  were.  Dofla  Manolita  was  not  by 
any  means  as  guileless  as  a  dove,  not  that  she  cher- 


14:8  DO^A  LUZ. 

ished  enmity  toward  any  one,  but  because  she  was  not 
without  a  touch  of  malice,  of  which,  perhaps,  she  had 
rather  an  undue  share.  Without  being  influenced  by 
envy  or  bitterness,  but  solely  through  a  love  for  the 
art  itself,  she  was  prone  to  indulge  in  scandal,  and  she 
was  too  apt  to  adopt  in  her  judgment  of  her  fellow- 
beings  the  cynical  counsel,  "  Judge  ill  of  others  and 
you  will  be  sure  to  judge  aright." 

Thanks  to  the  ajffectionate  respect  with  which 
Dofla  Luz  inspired  her,  however,  she  always  placed 
the  most  favorable  construction  possible  on  the  acts 
and  words  of  the  latter.  For  this  reason,  although  the 
irresistible  inclination  of  those  two  souls  for  each 
other  could  not  long  escape  her  notice,  Dofla  Mano- 
lita  never  failed  to  do  justice  to  Dofla  Luz,  and  she 
felt  and  acknowledged  in  her  own  heart  that  her 
friend  had  not  the  faintest  intention  of  disturbing  the 
priest's  peace  of  mind,  nor  of  seeking  to  attract  him 
by  reprehensible  coquetries. 

The  respect  and  affection  entertained  by  the  doc- 
tor's daughter  for  Father  Enrique  also  were  great, 
but  not  so  great  as  to  render  any  but  a  favorable  con- 
struction of  his  conduct  impossible  to  her.  Dofla 
Manolita,  then,  without  any  thought  that  Dofla  Luz 
had  given  occasion  or  motive  for  it,  began  to  suspect 
that  the  priest,  more  or  less  unconsciously,  was  in 
love. 

Through  consideration  for  her  friend,  as  well  as 


THE  TRIUMPH.  149 

because  she  knew  that  the  inhabitants  of  country 
towns  are  not  given  to  a  subtle  analysis  of  motives, 
and  that  however  little  she  might  say,  it  would  be 
enough  to  give  rise  to  gossip,  Dofla  Manolita  did 
not  confide  the  result  of  her  observations  even  to  her 
father.  She  confided  this  result  only  to  Pepe  Giieto, 
from  whom  she  concealed  nothing,  exacting  from 
him,  however,  the  most  profound  secrecy  in  the 
matter. 

The  seriousness  of  character  of  both  Dofla  Luz 
and  the  priest  prevented  Dofla  Manolita  from  indulg- 
ing in  any  daring  flight  of  the  imagination.  Not 
even  in  jest  had  she  ever  given  the  latter  the  faintest 
hint  regarding  the  passion  she  imagined  him  to  enter- 
tain. Nevertheless,  she  continued  to  make  her  obser- 
vations. Pepe  Gueto  made  his  observations,  also. 
They  communicated  to  each  other  afterward  what 
they  had  observed.  In  this  way  they  strengthened 
the  conviction  they  had  mutually  arrived  at,  that 
Father  Enrique,  without  being  conscious  of  it,  loved 
Dofla  Luz  in  a  mystic  and  ethereal  fashion,  and  that 
Dofla  Luz  allowed  herself  to  be  loved  without  fore- 
seeing any  disagreeable  termination  to  this  adoration 
or  reflecting  on  the  serious  consequences  it  might 
have,  seeing  in  it  only  a  tender,  frank,  and  sinless 
friendship,  such  as  she  herself  entertained  for  the 
valetudinarian  and  romantic  missionary. 

At  this  juncture  an  event  took  place  which  every 


150  D05fA  LUZ. 

one  had  now  given  up  expecting.  Suddenly,  and 
when  Don  Acisclo  had  resigned  himself  to  his  repre- 
sentative's remaining  invisible  for  his  constituents, 
the  latter  wrote  to  him  announcing  an  immediate 
visit  to  the  district.  The  first  place  in  which  he 
would  present  himself  was  to  be  Villafria,  visiting  in 
their  turn  afterward,  with  due  pomp,  the  other  towns 
of  the  district. 

Don  Acisclo  rejoiced  greatly  at  this  promised  visit, 
which  would  confer  upon  him,  he  foresaw,  a  high  degree 
of  importance ;  but  he  was  obliged  to  bestir  himself  to 
arrange  matters  so  that  Don  Jaime  Pimentel  should 
meet  with  a  brilliant  reception.  In  order  to  provide 
him,  not  merely  with  comfortable,  but  with  luxurious 
lodgings,  he  had  recourse  to  Dofla  Luz,  asking  her, 
for  Don  Jaime's  use,  for  the  finest  of  the  apartments 
in  the  family  mansion  which  were  not  occupied  by  his 
nephew;  and  in  order  to  furnish  him  with  a  good 
horse  on  which  to  make  his  visits  from  town  to  town, 
he  had  recourse  also  to  Dofla  Luz,  asking  her  to  lend 
him,  for  the  purpose,  her  handsome  black  horse. 
Dofla  Luz,  as  a  matter  of  course,  acceded  to  both 
requests. 

The  day  preceding  that  in  which  Don  Jaime  was 
to  arrive  every  one  in  the  village  was  in  a  state  of 
excitement  on  account  of  the  grand  reception  which 
was  about  to  take  place.  Even  Dofla  Manolita  was 
gayer  and  more  loquacious  than  usual.     In  the  daily 


THE  TRIUMPH.  151 

reunions  only  Dofla  Luz  and  Father  Enrique  were 
now  present,  all  the  others  being  engaged  either  in 
preparing  for  the  festival  or  in  resting  from  the 
fatigue  of  the  preparations  they  had  already  made. 

A  somewhat  malicious  idea  now  occurred  to  Dofla 
Manolita,  which,  if  carried  out,  she  thought  would 
throw  not  a  little  light  upon  the  subject  of  her  inves- 
tigations. What  was  there  to  prevent  her  saying  in 
jest,  as  it  were,  to  Dona  Luz  that  Don  Jaime,  in 
whose  favor  report  spoke  loudly,  and  who  was  free 
and  unmarried,  would  be  sure  to  fall  in  love  with  her 
the  instant  he  saw  her,  in  his  surprise  and  delight  to 
find  in  a  country  town  so  perfect  an  example  of  grace, 
distinction,  and  beauty  ?  And  why  should  she  not, 
while  flattering  the  vanity  of  Dofla  Luz,  play  a  less 
innocent  jest  upon  Father  Enrique,  making  use  of 
the  reagent  of  jealousy  to  precipitate  the  love  that 
now  dwelt  confused  and  obscure  in  the  depths  of  his 
consciousness?  Dofla  Manolita,  while  jesting  with 
her  friend,  would  take  care  to  observe  the  effect  of 
her  words  upon  the  priest,  to  see  whether  he  changed 
countenance  or  remained  unmoved,  in  appearance  at 
least. 

Dofla  Manolita  put  her  plan  into  execution.  She 
said  to  Dofla  Luz  that  Don  Jaime  would  be  sure  to 
fall  in  love  with  her  the  instant  he  saw  her;  that 
Don  Jaime  could  never  have  imagined  that  in  a  re- 
mote corner  of  the   world   like  Villafria  should  be 


152  DOSfA  LUZ. 

hidden  such  a  treasure,  and  that  in  her  opinion  there 
could  not  be  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  the  certainty  of 
Don  Jaime's  falling  in  love  with  her. 

"  Who  has  ever  come  to  Villafria,"  she  continued, 
"  that  was  in  a  position  to  aspire  to  your  hand  who 
has  not  fallen  in  love  with  you  ?  Prepare,  then,  the 
arts  with  which  you  will  sweeten  your  refusal,  if  you 
are  going  to  refuse  this  lover  too  !  But  who  knows  ? 
The  lover  I  now  prophesy  is  not  a  rustic  or  a  villager, 
like  those  who  have  thus  far  presented  themselves. 
They  say  he  is  the  cream  of  the  fashion  in  Madrid, 
and,  in  addition,  a  brave  soldier  and  a  man  of  extraor- 
dinary talent,  with  a  brilliant  future  before  him.  Will 
you  be  so  haughty  as  to  refuse  him  too  ?  " 

Dofia  Luz,  although  she  was  flattered  rather  than 
offended  by  the  words  of  her  friend,  denied  the  prob- 
ability of  the  prophesy  being  fulfilled,  saying  with 
a  modesty  not  altogether  sincere  that  Don  Jaime, 
accustomed  as  he  was  to  see  beautiful  women  in  the 
capital,  would  not  even  so  much  as  notice  her,  much 
less  fall  in  love  with  her. 

"  Besides,"  said  Dofia  Luz,  "  there  is  no  fear  of 
the  gentleman  in  question  wishing  to  marry  me.  I 
am  not  what  is  called  a  good  match.  He  would  want 
an  heiress  who  should  stimulate  his  ambition,  not  a 
poor  girl  who  would  chain  him  down  and  be  an  ob- 
stacle to  his  success.  Believe  me,  Manuela,  as  I  have 
already  told  you  a  thousand  times,  I  will  never  marry ; 


THE  TRIUMPH.  153 

I  have  no  desire  to  marry.  Let  us  not  speak  of  such 
nonsense,  even  in  jest. 

Dofia  Manolita,  while  these  observations  were  be- 
ing interchanged  between  her  friend  and  herself, 
glanced  furtively  at  the  priest,  and  fancied  that  he 
grew  a  shade  paler.  For  the  rest,  the  priest  remained 
silent,  and  expressed  no  opinion  either  as  to  the 
probability  of  Don  Jaime's  falling  in  love  or  the 
unalterable  resolution  of  Dofla  Luz  never  to  marry. 

At  ten  he  retired,  and  the  two  friends  were  left 
alone. 

Encouraged  by  the  toleration  with  which  her 
former  jest  had  been  received  by  the  daughter  of  the 
marquis,  who  perhaps  in  her  heart  was  not  displeased 
at  the  flattery,  Dofla  Manolita  allowed  herself  to  be 
tempted  into  another  jest,  less  innocent  than  the 
previous  one. 

"Without  taking  time  to  consider  what  she  was  say- 
ing, she  spoke  as  follows : 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  I  am  sorry  for  saying  what  I  did 
about  Don  Jaime." 

"  And  why  are  you  sorry,"  asked  Dofia  Luz,  inno- 
cently. "  I  do  not  think  it  at  all  likely  that  this  gentle- 
man from  the  court  is  going  to  fall  in  love  with  me 
in  the  few  days  he  is  to  remain  here,  but  as  it  is  not 
altogether  impossible  that  he  should  do  so,  and  as  it 
does  not  offend  me  that  you,  thinking  more  highly  of 
me  than  I  deserve,  should  predict  this  conquest,  you 


154  DOSfA  LUZ. 

have  no  need  to  be  sorry,  unless  you  are  afraid  of 
having  encouraged  my  vanity." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  answered  the  doctor's  daughter, 
"  that  makes  me  regret  what  I  have  said,  but  the  fear 
of  having  given  pain  to  a  sensitive  heart,  of  having 
wounded  it  deeply." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Dofla  Luz.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  What  sensitive  heart  are  you  speak- 
ing of  ?  " 

"  The  heart  of  Father  Enrique,"  Dofla  Manolita 
was  unfortunate  enough  to  answer. 

Dofla  Luz  turned  scarlet.  It  seemed  as  if  every 
drop  of  blood  in  her  body  had  rushed  to  her  face. 
All  the  pride  of  her  race  flowed  to  and  surged  up  in 
her  heart.  She  thought  it  ridiculous  and  offensive  to 
to  her  to  suppose  her  the  object  of  the  love  of  a  friar. 

A  friar  might,  indeed,  admire  her  for  her  intel- 
lectual endowments,  esteem  her  for  her  virtues,  re- 
spect her  for  her  blameless  conduct,  take  pleasure  in 
her  conversation  and  her  society,  and  pride  himself 
in  being  her  friend,  but  to  fall  in  love  with  her 
seemed  to  her  so  absurd,  so  contrary  to  all  the  rules 
of  propriety  and  to  all  social  and  religious  laws,  so 
monstrously  unseemly  and  repugnant,  that  she  neither 
desired  to  suppose,  nor  was  it  possible  or  right  that 
she  should  suppose  a  person  of  the  good  sense,  the 
discretion,  and  even  the  saintliness  of  Father  Enrique 
capable  of  it.     Dofla  Luz,  then,  regarded  the  idea  of 


THE  TRIUMPH.  155 

Dofia  Manolita  as  a  base  and  wicked  suspicion  and 
the  expression  in  words  of  this  idea  as  a  piece  of  in- 
solence, 

"  What  you  have  just  said,"  she  exclaimed,  her 
voice  trembling  with  anger,  "is  an  insult,  a  cruel 
accusation  against  Father  Enrique  and  against  me. 
Father  Enrique  is  not  mad,  nor  have  I  given  him  any 
reason  to  be  so.  In  order  to  protect  my  name  from 
the  attacks  of  slanderous  tongues  I  have  shut  myself 
up  in  this  town,  I  have  withdrawn  almost  entirely 
from  human  intercourse,  I  shunned  the  society  of  the 
young  while  I  was  young,  and  before  being  old  I 
have  admitted  to  my  friendship  only  old  men  like 
your  father,  the  parish  priest,  and  Don  Acisclo,  and 
all  this  has  been  of  no  avail  to  me.  Because  now, 
when  I  am  nearly  thirty  years  old,  I  have  shown  that 
I  take  pleasure — I  confess  it  frankly — in  the  society 
and  friendship  of  a  servant  of  the  Lord,  tried  by  a 
thousand  sufferings,  broken  down  in  health  by  the 
hardships  he  has  endured,  learned  and  virtuous,  to 
this  friendship,  this  intercourse,  only  vile  and  impure 
motives  can  be  imputed — and  this  not  by  the  ignorant 
rustics  of  the  place,  not  by  those  who  do  not  know 
me,  but  by  my  best  friend." 

Poor  Dofla  Manolita  was  terrified,  she  was  filled 
with  remorse  for  what  she  had  said ;  tears  sprang  to 
her  eyes. 

"  But,  for  heaven's  sake,  do  not  get  so  angry,"  she 


156  D05fA  LUZ. 

answered.  "I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Father  En- 
rique's affection  for  you  is  a  dishonorable  one." 

"  What  follies  are  those ! "  interrupted  DoGa  Luz. 
"What  distorted  ideas!  What  absurd  distinctions 
are  you  trying  to  make  ?  How  is  it  possible  to  justify 
the  love  of  a  friar  for  an  honorable  girl  ?  Such  a  love 
is  always  dishonorable.  It  is  infamous;  it  is  sacri- 
legious." 

Dofla  Manolita,  seeing  that  there  was  no  means  of 
repairing  her  mistake,  and  greatly  distressed  at  hav- 
ing so  grievously  offended  Dofla  Luz,  whom  she  loved 
with  her  whole  heart,  said  not  another  word,  but 
sobbed  and  wept  as  if  the  most  cruel  misfortune  in 
the  world  had  befallen  her. 

At  this  Dofla  Luz,  who,  notwithstanding  her 
haughtiness,  had  a  kind  heart,  feeling  that  she  had 
acted  with  too  much  harshness,  begged  Dofla  Mano- 
lita's  pardon,  kissing  her,  ready  to  cry  herself. 

As  a  consequence  the  two  friends  were  now  better 
friends  than  ever.  Dofla  Luz  was  convinced  that 
Dofla  Manolita  had  had  no  intention  of  easting  a 
doubt  on  the  innocent  nature  of  her  relations  with 
Father  Enrique,  and  Dofla  Manolita  tried  to  convince 
herself  that  not  even  as  Dante  loved  Beatrice,  as 
Petrarch  loved  Laura,  or  as  Don  Quixote  loved  Dul- 
cinea,  was  Father  Enrique  capable  of  loving  Dofla  Luz ; 
for  he  being  a  friar  and  she  a  well  brought  up  and 
honorable  young  lady,  in  such  a  love,  however  deli- 


THE  TRIUMPH.  157 

cate,  spiritual,  and  ethereal  it  might  be,  there  would 
be  a  something  indecorously  plebeian  and  grotesquely 
sinful  which  accorded  ill  with  the  character  of  her 
beautiful  and  haughty  friend. 

Scarcely  was  the  reconciliation  effected  when  Don 
Acisclo  and  Pepe  Gueto  entered  the  room.  Neither 
of  them  took  notice  of  the  traces  left  by  the  recent 
storm.  All  four  supped  together  amicably  and  with 
a  good  appetite,  and  then  retired  to  their  slumbers. 

On  the  following  day  the  triumphal  entry  of  Don 
Jaime  into  Villafria  was  celebrated  with  great  pomp 
and  circumstance.  All  who  had  horses,  and  many 
who  had  only  mules  or  donkeys,  went  early  in  the 
morning  to  the  railway  station  to  meet  him,  with  Don 
Acisclo  at  their  head,  and  at  about  eleven  o'clock  they 
all  returned  escorting  the  representative  mounted  on 
the  handsome  black  horse  of  Dofia  Luz. 

Those  of  the  boys  and  men  of  the  place  who  had 
neither  horses,  mules,  nor  donkeys,  went  to  the  town 
gates  on  foot  to  receive  the  gay  cavalcade  who  entered 
the  town  amid  the  pealing  of  the  bells,  which  had 
been  all  set  ringing,  the  shouts  and  acclamations  of 
the  people,  and  the  firing  of  as  many  guns  as  could  be 
found  fit  for  use  in  Villafria. 


158  I>O^A  LUZ. 


XIII. 

CRISIS. 

Having  replied  with  so  much  severity  to  Dofla 
Manolita's  words,  and  then  begged  her  pardon  for 
this  severity,  Dofla  Luz,  left  alone  with  herself,  began 
to  reflect  on  the  meaning  and  the  motive  of  those 
words ;  and  suddenly,  as  if  a  new  and  strange  light 
had  flashed  into  the  deepest  recesses  of  her  brain,  it  all 
became  clear  to  her,  and  she  confessed  that  her  friend 
was  not  altogether  without  some  appearance  of  reason 
in  what  she  had  said. 

Dofla  Luz  had  been  incensed,  perhaps,  because 
her  own  conscience,  enlightened  by  Dofla  Manolita's 
words,  had  formulated  a  much  more  serious  accusa- 
tion against  herself  than  any  contained  in  those 
words.  What  radical  and  important  difference  is 
there  between  a  friendship  of  the  most  tender  and  ex- 
clusive character,  a  predilection  the  most  marked  be- 
tween a  man  and  woman,  neither  of  them  yet  old,  and 
the  purest,  most  platonic,  and  sublimest  love?  Dofla 
Luz  put  this  question  to  herself,  and,  unable  to  come 
to  any  other  conclusion  than  that  there  was  no  differ- 
ence, or  that  if  there  were,  it  was  almost  impercepti- 
ble and  vanished  in  the  analysis,  decided  that  it  was 
neither  absurd  nor  insolent  to  suppose  and  to  affirm 
that  Father  Enrique  had  fallen  in  love  with  her. 


CRISIS.  159 

The  priest,  withheld  by  respect  for  her  and  regard  for 
his  profession,  his  vows,  and  his  position,  had  taken 
good  care  to  refrain  from  manifesting  his  affection  in 
a  manner  which  should  give  rise  to  the  faintest  sus- 
picion that  it  was  other  than  immaculate ;  but  doubt- 
less in  the  depth  of  his  soul  he  felt  this  affection. 

As  soon  as  Dofla  Luz  had  settled  in  her  own  mind 
that  this  was  clearly  the  case,  she  asked  herself : 

"  What  have  I  done  to  inspire  this  passion?  "What 
fault  is  it  of  mine  that  he  should  love  me  ?  To  what 
extent  have  I  encouraged,  and  do  I  encourage,  his 
affection  ?  "  The  answer  Dofia  Luz  gave  to  these  ques- 
tions was  contradictory  and  confused.  Now  she  con- 
demned herself,  again  she  absolved  herself  from  blame. 
She  condemned  herself  when  she  reflected  that  she 
had  concealed,  much  less  carefully  than  he  had  done, 
the  pleasure  with  which  she  had  listened  to  Father 
Enrique's  discourses,  the  happiness  it  gave  her  to  see 
him,  the  delight  she  always  took  in  his  conversation, 
and  that,  through  an  unreflecting  but  depraved  in- 
stinct, she  desired  to  appear  handsome  and  gi*aceful 
in  the  eyes  of  every  one,  and  particularly  in  the  eyes 
of  those  she  loved,  among  whom  she  could  not  but 
include  the  priest. 

Then  another  series  of  considerations  presented 

themselves  to  her  mind  to  absolve  her  from  blame. 

What !  was  it  not  lawful  to  love  the  knowledge,  the 

virtue,  and  the  intelligence  which  were  pre-eminent 
11 


160  I^OSfA  LUZ. 

in  Father  Enrique  ?  What  evil  was  there  in  showing 
him  this  love  ?  And  as  for  her  care  in  the  adornment 
of  her  person,  what  law,  human  or  .divine,  was  there 
that  could  impose  upon  her  the  obligation  of  conceal- 
ing the  gifts  which  Heaven  had  bestowed  upon  her, 
forbidding  her  to  display  them  as  far  as  was  compati- 
ble with  the  most  rigid  decorum  ?  In  this  way  Dofla 
Luz  acquitted  herself  of  blame ;  but,  continuing  her 
reflections,  she  reasoned  further  :  "And  if  I  think  that 
he  loves  me,  why  should  I  not  also  think  that  I  love 
him?  If  it  be  my  vanity  that  makes  me  think  he 
loves  mc,  may  not  he  be  as  vain  as  I  am,  and  think 
that  I  also  love  him  ?  And  if  he  has  given  me  reason 
to  think  that  he  loves  me,  have  I  given  him  less 
reason  to  think  that  I  love  him  ?  " 

Doila  Luz  was  then  obliged  to  confess  that,  con- 
sidering the  reserve  natural  to  woman,  the  modesty 
and  timidity  with  which  she  should  watch  over  and 
moderate  the  promptings  and  inclinations  of  the 
heart,  she  had  given  greater  reason  to  the  priest  to 
suppose  her  in  love  with  him  than  he  had  given  her 
to  suppose  him  in  love  with  her. 

The  proverb  says,  "  Whoever  proves  too  much 
proves  nothing."  And,  as  this  proverb  occurred  to 
Dofla  Luz,  she  could  not  prove  to  her  satisfaction 
either  that  Father  Enrique  was  in  love  with  her  or 
that  she  was  in  love  with  Father  Enrique.  She  ex- 
amined her  conscience;  she  interrogated  her  heart j 


CRISIS.  161 

and,  as  both  responded  that  she  did  not  love  the 
priest,  she  returned  to  her  former  conviction  that 
only  presumption  could  have  made  her  imagine  that 
the  priest  loved  her.  The  only  conclusion  at  which 
she  could  arrive  with  certainty,  in  the  midst,  of  so 
many  contradictions,  was  that  in  their  familiar  inter- 
course and  affectionate  intimacy,  and  in  the  learned 
conversations  they  held  together,  there  was  something 
that  gave  room  for  misconstruction,  something  of  bad 
taste,  something  at  once  pedantic  and  rustic,  that 
seemed  to  her  ridiculous,  and  whose  absurdity  was 
lessened  only  by  the  thought  that  her  life  in  a  coun- 
try town  could  not  well  have  led  her  into  a  less  silly 
error. 

Dofia  Luz  resolved  then  to  be  more  careful  and 
less  expansive  in  the  future,  and  to  indulge  less  fre- 
quently in  theological  and  philosophical  discussions, 
confidential  conversations,  and  familiar  intercourse 
with  the  venerable  nephew  of  the  former  steward  of 
her  house. 

"  If  there  is  not,"  she  said  to  herself,  in  conclusion, 
"  a  mutual  and  dangerous  inclination  in  our  souls,  it 
might  be  supposed  that  there  was,  and  this  supposi- 
tion would  be  an  offense  to  me.  And  if  there  is  such 
an  inclination,  it  would  be  on  every  account  abomina- 
ble, and  must  be  torn  up  by  the  roots." 

In  either  of  these  suppositions  Dofia  Luz  recog- 
nized the  necessity  of  changing  her  course  of  conduct, 


162  I>05fA  LUZ. 

the  propriety — to  make  use  of  an  antiquated  but  ex- 
pressive phrase — of  mending  her  carelessness. 

The  arrival  in  Villafria  of  the  victorious  and  re- 
splendent representative  Don  Jaime  Pimentel  y  Mon- 
cada  was  almost  simultaneous  with  the  adoption  of 
this  highly  prudent  though  somewhat  tardy  resolu- 
tion. 

In  one  of  the  lower  windows  Dofia  Luz,  accompa- 
nied by  her  placable  friend,  was  awaiting  the  appear- 
ance of  the  triumphal  procession,  whose  approach  was 
heralded  by  the  firing  of  guns  and  the  huzzas  of  the 
crowd. 

Don  Jaime,  mounted  on  horseback,  with  Don  Acis- 
clo  and  Pepe  Gueto  riding  on  either  side  of  him,  pre- 
ceded by  a  crowd  of  boys  and  men  on  foot,  and  fol- 
lowed by  a  goodly  number  of  people  on  horseback 
and  a  still  larger  number  of  people  on  foot,  at  last 
presented  himself  before  the  gaze  of  our  heroine. 

Rumor  had  not  erred.  Don  Jaime  was  a  hand- 
some and  distinguished-looking  man.  He  rode  Avith 
grace  and  skill.  Although  he  was  now  almost  forty, 
he  looked  to  be  hardly  thirty.  His  simple  attire  was 
marked  in  all  its  details  by  elegance  and  good  taste. 

The  cavalcade  stopped  at  the  door  of  Don  Acisclo, 
and  the  latter,  accompanied  by  his  protege  and  guest, 
soon  appeared  in  the  parlor,  where  Doiia  Luz  and 
Manolita  were  awaiting  their  arrival. 

"  Let  me  present  to  you  our  representative,  Sefior 


CRISIS.  163 

Don  Jaime,"  said  Don  Acisclo  to  Dofia  Luz,  and  then, 
turning  to  Don  Jaime, 

"  The  Seflorita  Dofia  Luz,"  he  said,  "  the  daughter 
of  the  late  Marquis  of  Villafria." 

The  distant  and  confused  recollections  she  retained 
of  the  fashionable  society  of  Madrid,  of  which  dur 
ing  the  past  twelve  years  she  had  caught  only  an 
occasional  glimpse,  the  vague  idea  of  more  cultured 
and  aristocratic  surroundings,  the  appearance  and  the 
mode  of  being  of  high-born  dames  and  gallants,  their 
customs,  conversations,  adventures,  and  love  affairs, 
such  as  she  had  imagined  or  conjectured  them  to  be 
without  ever  having  seen  or  enjoyed  anything  of  all 
this,  compelled,  as  she  had  been,  in  the  morning  of 
her  life,  to  retire  to  a  small  country  town,  all  suddenly 
rushed  to  the  mind  of  Dofia  Luz  as  her  eye  fell  on 
Don  Jaime  Pimentel,  as  she  noted  the  ease  and  dis- 
tinction of  his  manners,  listened  to  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  and  heard  the  few  and  well-chosen'  words  he 
addressed  to  her,  which  neither  fell  short  of  courtesy 
by  their  coldness  and  formality,  nor  exceeded  it  by 
their  gallantry,  but  kept  exactly  within  the  limits  of 
the  most  respectful  attention.  For  Dofia  Luz  did  not 
feel  that  it  was  an  inferior  who  was  addressing  her, 
nor,  on  the  other  hand,  an  insolent  courtier  whose 
sense  of  his  superiority  betrays  itself  through  his 
feigned  courtesy,  but  a  man  of  her  own  class  who  ad- 
dressed her  as  an  equal,  showing  her  at  the  same  time 


164  DOSfA  LUZ. 

those  delicate  attentions  which  are  always  due  to  a 
high-born  lady.  Dofla  Luz  understood  this,  was  pleased 
with  it,  and  grateful  for  it.  She  noted  well  the  dif- 
ference in  Don  Jaime's  tone  when  he  spoke  to  Dofla 
Mauolita,  later  on,  on  being  presented  to  her. 

Don  Jaime  remained  in  Villafria  two  days,  at  the 
end  of  which  time  it  was  necessary  to  continue  the 
task,  already  commenced,  of  visiting  the  various  towns 
of  the  district. 

During  these  two  days  Don  Acisclo  displayed  the 
greatest  magnificence.  He  gave,  so  to  say,  state 
banquets.  All  his  relations,  the  doctor,  the  doctor's 
daughter  and  son-in-law,  and  Don  Miguel,  the  parish 
priest,  breakfasted,  dined,  and  even  supped  with  him 
and  Don  Jaime,  whom  he  overwhelmed  with  atten- 
tions. The  latter  was  always  seated  at  the  right  of 
Dofla  Luz,  with  Dofla  Manolita  on  his  other  side. 

Petra,  the  housekeeper,  worked  wonders  during 
those  two  days.  What  stuffed  turkeys,  what  olla  with 
black  pudding  and  sausages  of  various  kinds,  what 
asparagus  cakes,  what  dishes  of  fricasseed  giblets, 
what  soups  of  artichokes,  mushrooms,  and  peas,  what 
dishes  of  Jellied  ham,  what  sweet  cakes,  what  de- 
licious ragouts,  spiced  sauces,  fresh  salads  and  sirups, 
did  she  not  prepare  for  her  master's  table ! 

The  five  best  musicians  in  the  town  came  in  the 
evening,  bringing  with  them  their  sweet  and  sonorous 
instruments;   and   there  was  dancing  in   the  upper 


CRISIS.  165 

square  room,  for  the  lower  room  was  sanctified,  as  it 
were,  by  the  presence  of  the  "  holy  supper." 

Don  Jaime  danced  a  rigadoon  with  Dofia  Manolita 
and  with  one  of  Don  Acisclo's  daughters,  and  with 
Dofia  Luz  he  not  only  danced  a  rigadoon  but  a  waltz 
as  well. 

He  was  extremely  amiable  and  attentive  to  Dofia 
Luz,  an  attention  and  amiability  which  she  recipro-r 
cated. 

The  delicate  witticisms,  the  anecdotes  that  without 
being  free  were  spicy,  the  clever  and  lively  sketches 
of  Madrid  society  of  Don  Jaime  greatly  diverted  Dofia 
Luz  and  even  made  her  laugh,  a  thing  Avhich  sur- 
prised and  delighted  her,  for  it  was  not  easy  to  make 
her  laugh.  Everything  Don  Jaime  said  delighted  his 
auditors,  who  all  applauded  him,  and  Dofia  Luz 
noticed  that  Don  Jaime,  without  being  vulgar  him- 
self, had  the  art  of  making  himself  understood  by  the 
vulgar  and  that  his  speeches  did  not  leave  his  hearers 
with  gaping  mouths,  wondering  what  he  had  been 
saying,  as  was  the  case  with  the  abstruse  and  lofty 
disquisitions  of  Father  Enrique,  who  did  not  fail  to 
be  present  on  all  these  occasions,  but  with  greatly 
eclipsed  luster  and  lost  and  confounded  among  the 
crowd. 

Don  Jaime  lost  no  opportunity  of  complimenting 
and  flattering  Dofia  Luz,  but  he  did  this  in  such  a 
manner  that  not  even  the  vainest  of  women  could 


166  DOSfA  LUZ. 

have  thought  these  compliments  and  flatteries  prompt- 
ed by  love,  nor  would  she  have  denied,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  they  might  proceed  from  love,  for  they 
were  accompanied  by  so  many  delicate  attentions  that 
it  was  possible  to  interpret  as  a  fear  of  giving  offense 
the  sentiment  that  prevented  their  transgressing  cer- 
tain limits.  The  amusing  frankness  with  which  Don 
Jaime  complimented  Dofla  Manolita  enhanced  the 
merit  and  the  flattering  significance  of  the  delicacy 
with  which  he  lauded  the  beauty  and  other  graces  of 
the  aristocratic  daughter  of  the  Marquis  of  Villafria — 
in  short,  the  two  days  passed  like  a  flash.  Don  Jaime 
went  to  visit  the  district  with  Don  Acisclo  and  Pepe 
Gueto,  and  the  two  friends  remained  as  before,  accom- 
panied only  at  meal  times  and  in  the  evenings  by  Fa- 
ther Enrique,  and  occasionally  by  the  parish  priest 
and  Don  Anselmo. 

When  Dofla  Manolita  found  herself  alone  with  her 
friend,  the  latter,  remembering  that  her  jesting  words 
concerning  the  possibility  of  Don  Jaime  falling  in 
love  with  her  had  not  offended  Dofla  Luz,  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  rally  her  again  on  the  same 
theme.  The  two  being  alone  together,  then,  in  the 
seclusion  of  the  little  parlor  of  Dofla  Luz,  on  the 
morning  of  Don  Jaime's  departure,  the  daughter  of 
the  doctor  said  to  the  daughter  of  the  marquis : 

"  Come,  confess  that  you  do  not  think  our  repre- 
sentative a  scarecrow. 


CRISIS.  167 

"  I  think  nothing  but  what  is  good  of  him,"  re- 
sponded Dofia  Luz.  "  To  say  the  contrary  would  be 
hypocrisy.  He  is  distinguished  -  looking,  sensible, 
handsome,  and  amiable." 

"  If  he  has  made  so  good  an  impression  upon  you," 
responded  Dofia  Manolita,  "  I  think  you  have  no  less 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  impression  you  made 
upon  him,  for  he  did  not  take  his  eyes  off  you  for  a 
single  instant,  and  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  he  ad- 
mired you  enthusiastically." 

"  Do  not  talk  nonsense,  Manuela." 

"I  am  not  talking  nonsense;  I  am  positive  of 
what  I  say." 

"  Your  desire  that  people  should  fall  in  love  with 
me  and  the  good  opinion  you  entertain  of  me  your- 
self have  made  you  imagine  those  things." 

"  And  the  compliments  he  paid  you  and  the  tender 
speeches  he  whispered  to  you — for  his  gestures  and  his 
expression  and  the  glances  he  gave  you  were  sufficient 
evidence  of  the  nature  of  his  words — do  I  imagine 
those  things  too  ?  " 

"  No,  you  do  not  imagine  them.  Why  should  I 
deny  to  you  that  Don  Jaime  has  paid  me  compli- 
ments ?  But  although  he  has  done  so,  with  a  respect 
and  a  delicacy,  it  is  true,  that  speak  highly  in  his  fa- 
vor (nor  would  I  have  permitted  his  doing  so  in  any 
other  manner),  he  has  not  for  a  single  instant  given 
me  reason  to  suppose  that  he  took  any  real  interest  in 


168  I>OSfA  LUZ. 

me.  His  words  gave  evidence  of  his  good  breeding, 
of  his  wit,  of  his  esteem  and  consideration  for  me,  but 
there  was  not  in  them  an  atom  of  sentiment;  there 
could  not  be.  What !  does  love  spring  to  being  in  a 
moment  in  real  life?  That  happens  only  in  plays, 
where  it  is  necessary  that  the  action  should  proceed 
rapidly  and  the  events  crowd  together  and  reach  their 
climax  in  the  space  of  a  few  hours  and  within  the 
limit  of  a  few  words." 

"  My  dear,  in  real  life,  as  well  as  in  plays,  to  fall  in 
love  at  first  sight  is  not  so  uncommon  an  occurrence 
as  you  seem  to  think.  Where  a  woman  of  your  rare 
gifts  is  concerned,  it  would  be  a  less  unlikely  oc- 
currence than  in  most  cases.  I  am  sure  of  it ; 
you  have  pierced  Don  Jaime's  heart  with  Cupid's 
arrow." 

"  The  expression  you  use  may  mean  so  much  or  so 
little  that  I  scarcely  know  what  answer  to  make  you. 
If  you  mean  to  say  that  Don  Jaime  admired  me  and 
was  even  a  little  surprised  (and  excuse  my  apparent 
vanity  in  saying  so)  at  finding  in  this  out-of-the-way 
place  a  woman  who,  suddenly  transplanted  to  a  draw- 
ing-room of  the  capital,  would  be  there  in  her  natural 
sphere,  I  am  not  far  from  believing  that  you  may  be 
right.  But,  between  this  and  inspiring  a  genuine 
affection  there  are  a  thousand  leagues'  distance,  and  I 
am  neither  vain  enough  to  suppose  nor  do  I  wish  to 
believe    Don   Jaime    should    travel    those    thousand 


CRISIS.  169 

leagues  in  forty-eight  hours,  which  is  precisely  the 
time  during  which  I  have  known  him." 

"And  why  do  you  think  he  should  not  travel, 
or  should  not  already  have  traveled  those  thousand 
leagues  ?  " 

"Because  such  a  thing  is  not  at  all  likely  and 
could  lead  to  no  result.  See,  Manuela,  there  is  noth- 
ing I  would  not  confide  to  you.  I  confess  that  the 
thought  of  the  possibility  of  such  a  love  has  occurred 
to  me  too,  but  I  have  put  it  away  from  me  as  folly. 
Don  Jaime  is  ambitious,  and  his  means,  including  his 
pay  and  his  private  income,  are  barely  sufficient  for 
himself.  If  he  fell  in  love  with  me  it  would  be  with 
the  idea  of  marrying  me.  And  what  could  I  give 
him  ?  My  property,  managed  under  my  personal  su- 
pervision, brings  me  an  income  of  20,000  reals  a  year 
at  the  most.  If  I  were  not  here  to  attend  to  it,  it 
would  not  bring  10,000  reals,  either  managed  by  an 
agent  or  rented.  My  marriage  with  Don  Jaime  would 
bind  him  down  hand  and  foot ;  I  should  be  a  burden 
on  him.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  Don  Jaime,  even  if 
by  chance  he  felt  some  inclination  for  me,  which  I 
doubt,  would  drive  away  such  an  affection  from  him, 
like  an  insane  temptation,  a  fatal  error." 

"  Then  you  do  not  conceive  the  possibility,"  in- 
terrupted Dofia  Manolita,  "  of  any  one  loving  you 
except  through  self-interest?  I  do  not  understand 
you.      What   flatters   a  woman  and  Avins   her   affec- 


170  doJJa  luz. 

tion  is  to  be  loved  for  her  own  sake,  not  for  her 
money." 

"  I  am  of  your  opinion,"  answered  Dofia  Luz.  "  I 
do  not  know  whether  I  should  love  Don  Jaime  or  not 
if  he  were  to  love  me ;  but  I  should  certainly  not  love 
him  if  I  were  rich  and  suspected  that  he  loved  me 
from  interested  motives.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I 
am  resolved  never  to  marry.  If  I  were  rich  I  should 
always  suspect  that  I  was  not  loved  for  myself,  and 
being  poor  I  doubt  that  any  one  would  love  me  to 
the  extent  of  sacrificing  himself  for  my  sake.  Unless 
I  should  marry  some  young  man  of  the  neighborhood, 
for  whom  only  I  would  be  a  suitable  match,  since  he 
would  make  no  sacrifice  in  marrying  me,  nor  would  I 
be  for  him  merely  a  means  of  enriching  himself  in- 
stead of  the  cherished  partner  of  his  life,  I  do  not  see 
any  suitable  match  for  me  in  the  world.  My  only 
love  will  be  this — " 

And  rising  from  her  seat,  by  one  of  those  ascetic 
impulses  which  occasionally  seized  her,  Dofia  Luz 
drew  aside  her  famous  picture  of  the  dead  Christ  and 
pressed  her  fresh  and  rosy  lips  to  the  livid  lips  of  the 
terrible  image. 

Dofia  Manolita  had  already  seen  the  picture  sev- 
eral times,  but  it  had  never  produced  a  more  pro- 
found impression  upon  her  than  it  did  now,  when 
the  bloom  of  youth,  the  exuberance  of  life,  and  the 
animated  beauty  of  Dofia  Luz  were  brought  into  con- 


CRISIS.  171 

traat  with  this  realistic  representation  of  agony  and 
death. 

This  and  other  conversations  which  Dofia  Lnz 
held  with  her  friend,  the  monologues  in  which  she 
indulged  when  alone,  and  the  thoughts  that  contin- 
ually beset  her  mind  nourished  in  the  soul  of  the 
haughty  girl  a  suspicion  against  which  her  pride  re- 
belled and  against  which  she  struggled  with  all  the 
power  of  her  will. 

Don  Jaime  would  return.  Don  Jaime,  after  his 
tour  among  the  other  towns  of  the  district,  would 
spend  three  days  in  Villafria.  Was  Dofia  Luz  going 
to  be  so  weak  as  to  allow  herself  to  conceive  an  in- 
clination, however  slight,  a  liking,  however  faint,  but 
which  should  be  unrequited,  for  the  representative? 
The  very  thought  of  such  a  thing,  the  barest  possibility 
of  its  occurrence,  made  Dofia  Luz  blush  with  shame  as 
if  she  had  been  already  scorned  by  Don  Jaime. 

She  resolved  in  her  breast,  then,  to  remain  cold  to 
and  unmoved  by  the  flatteries  of  Don  Jaime  when  he 
should  return,  and  forgetting  in  the  presence  of  this 
new  danger  the  danger  that  might  lie  in  the  intimate 
conversations  and  the  learned  discussions  with  Father 
Enrique  and  in  the  attention  and  emotion  with  which 
she  listened  to  his  discourses,  she  sought  again  with 
greater  eagerness  than  ever  the  priest's  society,  taking 
fresh  delight  in  it,  and  giving  unmistakable  signs  of 
her  predilection  for  him. 


172  DONA  LUZ. 

A  whole  week  passed  quickly  in  this  fashion,  at  the 
end  of  which,  with  no  less  pomp  and  circumstance 
than  on  the  previous  occasion,  the  illustrious  repre- 
sentative Don  Jaime,  accompanied  by  Don  Acisclo 
and  Pepe  Giieto,  returned  to  Villafria. 

In  Don  Acisclo's  house,  the  banquets,  the  splen- 
did entertainments,  the  pomp  and  magnificence  dis- 
played on  the  occasion  of  Don  Jaime's  former  visit, 
were  again  renewed. 


XIV. 

THE  SOLUTION"   OF  THE   CRISIS. 

Meantime  Don  Jaime  continued  to  observe  to- 
ward Dofia  Luz  the  same  conduct  as  before.  His  at- 
tentions could  not  be  more  respectful  nor  his  flatteries 
more  delicate  than  they  were.  Once  or  twice  Dofia 
Luz  had  fancied  that  he  was  on  the  point  of  express- 
ing himself  with  undue  ardor ;  but  on  these  occasions 
her  pride  came  to  her  aid  to  restrain  the  tongue  of 
the  flatterer,  for  which  a  slight  gesture  of  impatience 
or  displeasure  or  a  severe  glance  sufficed. 

Two  days  out  of  the  three  which  Don  Jaime  was 
to  spend  in  Villafria  went  by  in  this  way,  and  the 
third  and  last  day  had  dawned.  On  the  following 
morning  at  daybreak  Don  Jaime  was  to  depart  for 


THE  SOLUTION  OP  THE  CRISIS.  I73 

Madrid.  It  was  eight  o'clock  and  Dofla  Luz  was  al- 
ready up  and  dressed  for  the  street. 

On  this  day,  feeling  more  devout  than  usual,  be- 
fore going  to  church  to  hear  mass,  as  was  her  intention, 
she  uncovered  the  picture  of  the  Christ,  knelt  down 
before  it,  and  began  to  pray  with  extreme  fervor. 

She  had  given  orders  to  her  maid  not  to  enter 
until  she  should  be  called,  and  thought  herself  en- 
tirely alone. 

In  the  seclusion  of  her  own  apartment,  her  soul 
melted  by  the  fervency  of  her  prayers,  who  can  say 
what  melancholy  ideas  presented  themselves  to  her 
mind  or  what  pangs  of  tenderness  pierced  her  heart  ? 
But  presently  she  uttered  a  profound  sigh,  and  two 
large  tears  welled  from  her  beautiful  eyes  and  coursed 
down  her  fresh  and  rosy  cheeks. 

The  doctor's  daughter,  the  only  person  who  had 
access  to  her  apartments  unannounced,  had  meantime 
entered  the  room  unperceived  by  Dolla  Luz,  absorbed 
as  she  was  in  her  devotions. 

Dofla  Manolita,  then,  was  an  unobserved  witness 
of  the  fervent  prayers  of  Dofla  Luz,  and  of  the  tears 
mingled  with  sighs  in  which  those  prayers  had  ended. 
At  sight  of  these,  without  further  hesitation,  she 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  her  friend  and  kissed 
away  the  tears  from  her  cheeks. 

"What  is  the  matter?  Why  do  I  find  you  in 
tears  ?  "  she  asked. 


174  D05fA  LUZ. 

But  Dofia  Luz  answered  this  question  by  another : 

"  How  did  you  obtain  entrance  here  ?  Why  this 
early  visit  ?  Why  have  you  startled  me  in  this 
way  ?  " 

"  Forgive  me  for  having  startled  you — for  having 
interrupted  you  in  your  prayers,"  answered  Dofia 
Manolita.  "  You  are  already  aware  that  when  I  come 
to  see  you  so  early  in  the  morning  it  is  because  I  have 
some  good  reason  for  doing  so.  I  think  this  is  the 
first  time  since  the  day  on  which  I  told  you  of  my  en- 
gagement to  Pepe  Giieto  that  I  have  availed  myself  of 
your  permission  to  visit  you  informally." 

"  That  is  true ;  it  is  not  of  your  coming  that  I 
complain.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  glad  that  you  have 
come ;  but  I  was  surprised  to  see  you  at  so  unusual 
an  hour.  What  news,  then,  no  less  important  than 
the  announcement  of  your  engagement,  has  brought 
you  here  so  early  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  come  to-day  as  an  ambassador.  I  am  the  bearer 
of  a  message  whose  purport  you  may  not  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  guess." 

"  From  whom  is  the  message  ?  " 

"From  Don  Jaime  Pimeutel,"  answered  Dofia 
Manolita. 

A  blush  suffused  the  face  of  Dofia  Luz,  who  was 
unable  to  disguise  from  her  friend  the  pride  and 
pleasure  which  her  words  had  caused  her. 

"  What  message  have  you  brought  me  ?    Is  this 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  CRISIS.  175 

some  jest  of  yours  or  of  Don  Jaime  Pimentel  ?  "  she 
said. 

"  It  is  no  jest ;  it  is  something  serious,  and  very 
serious.     Don  Jaime  adores  you ! " 

"And  why  does  he  not  tell  me  this  himself? 
Have  the  cavaliers  of  the  court  grown  so  timid  that 
they  no  longer  dare  to  make  their  own  declarations  ?  " 

"  Do  not  blame  him.  Don  Jaime  assuredly  does 
not  err  on  the  side  of  timidity.  He  gives  a  satisfac- 
tory explanation  of  his  conduct.  He  says  that  a  direct 
declaration  from  him  would  require  much  more  time 
than  the  case  allows.  It  could  not  be  made  with  this 
abruptness.  It  would  have  been  necessary  to  wait  for 
an  opportunity  to  prepare  your  mind  for  it  before- 
hand. Your  sense  of  decorum  would  not  allow  a 
hasty  courtship,  and,  however  good  a  use  he  might 
make  of  his  time,  it  would  not  be  possible  to  crowd 
so  many  formalities  and  preparations  into  three  days. 
For  this  reason  he  has  availed  himself  of  my  services. 
Last  night,  when  he  left  you,  he  accompanied  me 
home,  and  we  had  a  long  conversation  together.  How 
well  I  foresaw  what  was  going  to  happen !  You  have 
pierced  his  heart  with  Cupid's  arrow.  He  is  madly 
in  love  with  you,  and  has  begged  me  to  intercede  for 
him." 

"  What  folly  is  this  ?  "  exclaimed  Dofia  Luz.  "  Has 
Don  Jaime  thought  well  over  the  matter  ?  Does  he 
know  that,  with  a  heart  like  mine,  there  must  be  no 

12 


176  DOSfA  LUZ. 

trifling  ?  Has  he  considered  whether  the  feeling  he 
entertains  for  me  is  one  in  which  the  happiness  of  a 
lifetime  is  at  stake  or  only  a  passing  fancy  ?  " 

"If  Don  Jaime  had  not  thought  of  all  this  he 
would  not  have  asked  my  assistance.  If  he  did  not 
feel  that  the  happiness  of  his  future  life  depended  on 
the  answer  you  give  him  now,  I  should  not  have  come 
to  speak  to  you  in  his  name." 

"  Does  Don  Jaime  know  that  I  have  little  or  no 
fortune  ?  " 

"  He  knows  the  exact  amount  of  your  fortune." 

"  Strange,"  said  Dofia  Luz.  "  I  confess  that  I  had 
a  much  worse  opinion  of  myself  and  of  men.  I  did 
not  think  myself  capable  of  inspiring  an  affection  so 
disinterested  in  a  man  to  whom  ambition  offers  so 
bright  a  future,  on  whom  Fortune  smiles,  and  whom, 
according  to  common  report,  the  haughtiest  and  most 
beautiful  women  of  Madrid  pet  and  spoil.  Still  less 
did  I  suppose  that  a  man  should  conceive  this  dis- 
interested affection  for  me  in  so  sudden  and  unex- 
pected a  fashion." 

"  Do  not  doubt  it ;  Don  Jaime  loves  you  in  this 
way.  Tell  me  whether  you  return  his  affection  or 
not." 

"  I  scarcely  know  what  answer  to  make  you.  I  am 
very  grateful  to  Don  Jaime,  but  before  being  grateful, 
before  I  had  any  cause  to  be  so — why  should  I  seek  to 
conceal  it  from  you — the  distinguished  appearance  of 


THE  SOLUTION  OP  THE  CRISIS.  177 

Don  Jaime,  his  good  sense,  his  reputation  as  a  brave 
soldier,  the  dignity  and  grace  of  his  bearing,  all  con- 
spired to  predispose  me  in  his  favor,  but  my  pride 
took  alarm  at  the  thought  of  cherishing  a  feeling  that 
might  not  be  reciprocated,  and  my  pride  has  done 
all  that  was  possible  to  stifle  this  nascent  inclina- 
tion." 

"  And  now  that  you  know  how  fully  reciprocated 
is  your  inclination,  what  do  you  feel  ?  What  do  you 
think  of  Don  Jaime  ?  " 

"  I  think  and  feel — that  I  ought  not  at  once  to 
give  him  an  affirmative  answer,  which  he  might  not 
greatly  appreciate  if  he  thought  it  too  easily  obtained ; 
besides  it  is  not  enough  to  be  loved ;  it  is  necessary 
to  think  how  this  love  is  to  end." 

"  Child  !  How  should  it  end  but  in  the  priest 
marrying  you?" 

"  True,  and  that  is  precisely  what  obliges  me  to 
reflect  seriously  on  the  matter.  My  character  is  a 
strange  one.  I  do  not  desire  that  any  one  should  love 
me  through  expediency,  and  it  is  equally  repugnant 
to  me  that  expediency  should  influence  my  love.  If 
I  were  to  marry  Don  Jaime,  poor  as  I  am,  might  it 
not  be  thought  that  the  wish  to  leave  Villafria  and  go 
to  live  in  Madrid,  the  position  of  Don  Jaime,  his 
brilliant  prospects,  and  even  the  material  advantages 
which  he  now  enjoys  had  influenced  me  in  this  mar- 
riage?   He,  on  the  other  hand,  is  not  rich  for  our 


178  DONA  LUZ. 

rank,  and  I  foresee  embarrassments,  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties, the  horrible  prose  of  domestic  life  with  insuffi- 
cient means.  This  thought  terrifies  me.  And  it 
does  not  terrify  me  for  myself,  because  of  the  dep- 
rivations I  might  have  to  endure,  but  because  I 
blush  to  think  that  I  might  be  the  cause  of  a  man's 
living  oppressed  by  pecuniary  difficulties.  If  he  were 
to  remain  here  with  me,  he  would  sacrifice  to  me  his 
ambition,  his  career,  his  future.  If  he  were  to  take 
me  to  Madrid  with  him,  we  should  be  obliged  to  live 
there  in  comparative  poverty.  I  should  present  a 
sorry  figure  in  the  society  he  frequents.  And  who 
knows  but  that  in  the  end  this  might  extinguish  his 
love  for  mc  ?  Who  knows  but  that,  growing  weary  of 
me,  he  might  in  the  end  even  come  to  hate  me  ?  " 

"  I  see  that  you  analyze  too  closely  and  that  you 
take  pleasure  in  tormenting  yourself,  and  in  putting 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  what  you  most  desire." 

"  And  who  has  told  you  that  I  desire  it  ?  I  my- 
self do  not  not  know  whether  I  desire  it  or  not;  I 
have  my  doubts.  I  do  not  see  clearly  into  the  depths 
of  my  soul.  May  it  not  have  been  gratified  vanity, 
may  it  not  have  been  a  childish  satisfaction  at  seeing 
myself  beloved  by  a  man  of  so  much  merit,  that 
induced  me  to  think  that  I  too  desired  it.  What  is 
love  ?  Is  the  feeling  which  I  have  in  my  soul,  and 
which  draws  me  toward  this  man,  love?  See,  Man- 
uela,  why  should  I  not  tell  you  everything?    All  this 


THE  SOLUTION  OP  THE  CRISIS.  179 

is  dark  and  confused;  there  is  another  man  upon 
whose  words  I  hang  when  he  speaks,  whose  genius 
dazzles  me,  whose  intellectual  superiority  subjugates 
me,  whose  virtues  fill  me  with  wonder  and  enthusiasm ; 
the  nobility  of  whose  nature,  the  goodness  of  whose 
heart  I  clearly  perceive,  and  you  already  know  the 
annoyance,  the  disgust  it  would  cause  me  that  any 
one  should,  for  a  single  instant,  confound  with  love 
the  sentiments  with  which  this  man  inspires  me,  and 
with  which  I,  too,  doubtless  inspire  him  ?  With  Don 
Jaime  the  contrary  of  this  is  the  case.  I  scarcely 
know  him ;  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  worthy  or 
unworthy.  His  understanding  seems  to  me  inferior  to 
that  of  the  other,  and  yet  I  feel  attracted  toward  him. 
Do  I  perchance  love  in  him  the  love  he  has  for  me, 
and  which  flatters  me  so  greatly  ?  Is  the  feeling  that 
repels  me  in  the  other,  that  annihilates  love,  only 
respect  for  the  laws  that  prohibit  it  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  interrupted  Manuela. 
"  You  are  not  so  much  a  child  as  not  to  know  what 
love  is — not  to  be  able  to  discover  it  in  your  heart  if 
it  exists  there.  Is  not  Don  Jaime  ardent,  handsome, 
brave,  graceful,  and  sensible  ?  Is  he  not  free,  does  he 
not  love  you,  does  he  not  give  you  a  proof  of  his  love 
in  wishing,  as  he  has  told  me  he  does,  to  marry  you  ? 
Is  he  not  a  well-born  and  honorable  gentleman  ?  "What 
is  the  cause,  then,  of  all  those  sophisms  and  cavilings 
with  which  you  torment  your  brain?    Tell  him  you 


180  DOSfA  LUZ. 

will  be  his,  love  him,  marry  him,  and  you  shall 
see  how  happy  you  will  be.  Give  him  hopes,  at 
least,  that  you  will  love  him  if  you  do  not  wish  at 
once  to  give  your  complete  consent.  If  you  give  him 
hope  he  will  not  go  to  Madrid,  he  says,  but  will  re- 
main in  Villafria.  He  will  find  some  plausible  pre- 
text to  remain  here.  He  will  give  out  that  he  has 
stayed  here  to  complete  the  purchase  of  an  olive  plan- 
tation bordering  on  one  of  his  and  for  which  ho  has 
been  negotiating." 

"  What  you  advise  is  vulgar — forgive  the  rudeness 
of  the  words — it  is  unworthy.  I  ought  not  to  give 
hope  of  a  thing  of  which  I  myself  am  not  sure,  and, 
if  I  am  certain  of  my  own  feelings,  it  is  a  ridiculous 
artifice  to  conceal  them  by  saying  I  will  give  him 
hope  and  to  disclose  my  feelings  little  by  little.  If  I 
do  not  love  Don  Jaime  I  should  not  deceive  him  by 
fallacious  hopes.  He  asks  my  hand  and  seeks  to  gain 
my  affections  and  make  me  his  wife  without  my  hav- 
ing given  him  any  encouragement;  and,  if  I  love 
him,  I  should  be  frank  and  tell  him  so  at  once,  know- 
ing that  he  loves  me.  Although  he  may  set  little 
value  on  a  consent  so  easily  and  so  soon  obtained,  I 
should  still  give  him  this  consent." 

"I  am  entirely  of  your  opinion,"  replied  Dofia 
Manolita.  "  Give  him  this  consent.  Let  him  hear  it 
from  your  own  lips  and  he  will  be  the  happiest  of 
men." 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  CRISIS.  181 

"  And  when  and  how  shall  I  give  it  to  him  ?  No ; 
tell  him  nothing.  I  am  ashamed.  Be  silent,  be  silent, 
for  pity's  sake !  Let  him  go  and  leave  me  tranquil  in 
my  retreat." 

"  Nonsense,  child,  don't  be  foolish.  How  is  he  to 
go  without  an  answer  after  the  step  he  has  taken  ?  " 

"And  how  can  I  answer  him  if  I  do  not  know 
what  to  answer  him  ?  Do  you  not  think  that  he  will 
repent  of  his  proposal  as  soon  as  I  have  given  him  my 
consent  ?  Do  you  think  that  he  loves  me  truly,  with 
his  whole  heart,  as  I  desire  to  be  loved,  as  I  would 
love  him  if  he  loved  me  ?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed,  believe  it.  His  words  inspire  belief 
in  the  mind  most  inclined  to  doubt.  Listen  to  him 
and  you  will  be  convinced.  I  will  venture  to  tell  you 
— for  heaven's  sake,  Luz,  do  not  be  angry — I  was  un- 
able to  resist  his  prayers.  I  brought  him  with  me. 
He  is  waiting  in  the  square  room  above.  I  will  run 
and  send  him  to  you." 

Before  Doila  Luz  had  consented,  her  friend,  J3eet 
as  a  deer,  had  gone  in  search  of  the  representative 
brigadier. 

Dofla  Luz  hardly  knew  what  she  felt.  She  was 
greatly  agitated ;  she  was  about  to  find  herself  alone 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  with  a  youthful  lover  in 
this  modest  retreat  in  which  she  had  passed  the  best 
years  of  her  life.  Vague  dreams  of  love,  words  of 
tenderness,  ecstatic  joys  of  the  soul,  suddenly  pre- 


182  DOf?A  LUZ. 

Bented  themselves  to  her  mind,  not  now  in  connection 
with  an  ideal  and  ethereal  being,  the  creature  of  her 
imagination,  but  with  a  human  being,  real  and  full 
of  life,  whose  admirable  qualities  it  gave  her  delight 
to  contemplate,  and  whose  affection  for  her  flattered 
her  pride. 

The  melancholy  image  of  Father  Enrique  passed 
before  her  mind,  saddening  her.  She  looked  at  the 
face  of  the  dead  Christ,  and  she  fancied  she  saw  in  it 
a  resemblance  to  the  priest. 

It  was  broad  daylight.  The  sun  streamed  in 
through  the  windows,  and  yet  she  felt  something  like 
a  shudder  as  she  contemplated  the  picture.  She  went 
quickly  and  covered  it  with  the  other  picture. 

As  if  to  remove  from  her  thoughts  every  gloomy 
image,  she  then  went  to  the  mirror  and  gazed  at  her 
reflection  in  it — a  picture  of  grace  and  beauty  and 
youthful  bloom,  and  it  seemed  to  her  natural,  inevi- 
table, almost,  that  Don  Jaime  should  love  her. 

Then  her  thoughts  reverted  to  Father  Enrique, 
but  not  with  sadness  as  before.  The  very  love  she 
entertained  for  Don  Jaime  would  explain  whatever 
might  be  liable  to  misconception  in  her  inclination 
toward  the  priest.  This  impelled  her  to  believe  that 
she  was  in  love  with  Don  Jaime.  Loving  Don  Jaime, 
whatever  might  have  been  strange  in  her  friendship 
with  the  missionary,  disappeared  in  her  eyes.  All 
that  had  at  times  seemed  to  her  ridiculous  in  her 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  CRISIS.  183 

relations  with  him  disappeared  and  everything  was 
explained. 

These  thoughts  passed  in  an  instant's  space  through 
the  mind  of  Dofia  Luz.  An  instant  only  did  Don 
Jaime  delay  in  making  his  appearance  at  the  door 
of  the  little  parlor,  which  Dona  Mauolita  had  left 
open. 

Don  Jaime  had  no  need  to  ask  permission  to  en- 
ter. Dofla  Luz  was  awaiting  him ;  she  saw  him  ap- 
proach, and  received  him  in  silence. 

Dofia  Manolita  paused  at  the  threshold  and  Don 
Jaime  entered  the  room  alone. 

He  hastened  to  Dofia  Luz,  knelt  before  her  and 
said  in  a  voice  full  of  emotion : 

"  You  already  know  what  I  would  say.  My  happi- 
ness or  my  misery  depends  upon  you.  Here  I  await 
my  sentence." 

A  discourse  more  elaborate  than  this  would  have 
been  ridiculous  on  such  an  occasion ;  any  art  he  might 
have  used  would  have  been  vain ;  any  precaution  he 
might  have  taken,  repellant. 

The  door  of  the  parlor  had  remained  open  and 
Don  Jaime  was  on  his  knees  before  Dofla  Luz.  It 
seemed  as  if  he  had  just  surrendered  at  discretion, 
that  he  had  said  all  he  had  to  say,  and  that  it  was  her 
part  now  to  speak  and  impose  conditions. 

Dofia  Luz  felt  her  pride  greatly  flattered.  This 
dandy ^  this  brave  soldier,  this  man  with  a  great  ca- 


184:  DONA  LUZ. 

reer,  a  brilliant  future  before  him,  was  here  at  her 
feet,  subjugated  by  her  beauty,  without  any  other 
cause  for  this  subjugation  than  the  sudden  and  ar- 
dent passion  with  which  she  had  inspired  him. 

Dofia  Luz  was  silent ;  she  could  find  no  word  to 
say;  but  in  her  countenance,  incapable  of  dissem- 
bling, and  where  all  her  feelings  were  reflected,  were 
depicted  joy,  tender  emotion,  and  pleased  surprise. 

As  the  snows  of  winter  at  times  linger  long  upon 
the  ground,  and  by  this  delay  lend  new  vigor  to  the 
germinal  force  of  spring,  which  suddenly  appears  and 
makes  its  presence  felt,  covering  the  trees  with  ver- 
dure and  the  fields  with  flowers,  so  did  the  longing 
to  love,  repressed  hitherto  by  maidenly  reserve,  and 
dormant,  as  it  were,  till  now,  awake  to  sudden  life  in 
the  impassioned  and  virginal  heart  of  our  heroine. 
Dofia  Luz  felt  the  spring  of  life  awake  to  being  in 
her  soul ;  she  heard  the  birds  sing ;  she  saw,  as  in  a 
magic  mirror,  glimpses  of  paradise;  she  inhaled  the 
intoxicating  perfume  of  enchanted  roses,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  as  if  the  soft  warmth  and  the  golden  light  of 
an  ideal  sun  diffused  themselves  through  her  breast, 
illumining  and  vivifying  a  world  of  exquisite  beauty, 
newly  created  and  hidden  there. 

Then  the  fear  assailed  her  that  this  wonderful 
creation  might  return  to  nothingness,  might  vanish 
like  a  dream,  and  she  exclaimed  at  last,  with  strange 
candor: 


THE  SOLUTION  OF  THE  CRISIS.  185 

"  You  are  not  deceiving  me  ?  Is  this  indeed  true  ? 
You  love  me  ?  " 

"  "With  my  whole  soul,"  answered  Don  Jaime,  taking 
her  beautiful  hand  in  his,  and  pressing  a  kiss  upon  it. 

"  Do  not  be  foolish.  Rise,"  said  Dofia  Luz,  gently 
withdrawing  her  hand  from  Don  Jaime's  clasp. 

"  I  shall  not  rise,"  he  replied,  "  until  I  know  my 
fate." 

"  Don  Jaime,  for  pity's  sake,  what  would  you  have 
me  say  ?  I  can  not  tell  whether  I  love  you  or  not ; 
but  if  the  pleasure  it  causes  me  to  believe  myself 
loved,  and  the  fear  of  losing  this  belief,  are  symptoms 
of  love,  then  I  think  I  love  you." 

Dofia  Luz  blushed  as  she  had  never  blushed  be- 
fore as  she  pronounced  these  words,  and  Don  Jaime 
rose  to  his  feet,  showing  in  his  countenance  the  grati- 
tude and  joy  which  the  confession  of  Dofia  Luz  had 
given  him. 

Then  he  said : 

"  Cast  away  all  fear,  and  be  assured  that  I  shall 
never  cease  to  love  you  with  a  love  equaled  only  by 
the  respect  and  the  profound  admiration  which  are 
your  due." 

Having  arrived  at  this  point  in  their  mutual  con- 
fessions, and  the  way  lying  so  smooth  and  easy  before 
them,  everything  was  thus  tacitly  settled  in  this  one 
brief  interview. 

Dofia  Luz  was  agitated  and  confused,  but  the 


186    '  DOI^A  LUZ. 

severe  dignity  of  her  countenance  and  her  hearing 
would  have  restrained  the  boldest  lover. 

Don  Jaime  believed  that  he  possessed  the  love  of 
Dofia  Luz,  yet  not  even  by  another  kiss  on  her  hand 
did  he  venture  to  show  that  he  returned  this  love  and 
was  grateful  for  it. 

In  short,  the  character  of  Dofia  Luz  being  such  as 
it  was,  and  she  and  Don  Jaime  having  mutually  con- 
fessed their  love,  there  was  no  need  for  further  vacil- 
lation, discussion,  or  delay.  The  marriage  must,  of 
necessity,  now  follow  quickly. 

Doua  Luz  was  too  vehement  in  her  nature  to 
maintain  a  cold  and  calm  conversation  on  indifferent 
subjects  when  alone  with  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
just  almost  said,  "  I  love  you,"  while  her  dignity  and 
purity  left  neither  the  desire  nor  the  hope  of  obtain- 
ing the  most  innocent  caress,  to  ask  for  which,  indeed, 
Don  Jaime  knew  would  be  to  expose  himself  to  her 
displeasure. 

Hence  the  embarrassment  in  which  Dofia  Luz  and 
her  lover  found  themselves  as  soon  as  they  had  mutu- 
ally confessed  their  affection.  Dofia  Luz,  especially, 
was  ill  at  ease.  She  was  ashamed  of  what  she  had 
said,  she  wished  to  shun  the  looks  of  this  man,  yet 
she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  leave  him,  fearing 
lest  her  flight  should  seem  like  an  artifice  or  a  piece 
of  childish  affectation,  ridiculous  in  a  woman  of 
twenty-eight. 


FIRST  SKETCH  OF  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL.  187 

Fortunately  Dofia  Manolita  divined  by  instinct 
the  embarrassment  of  the  situation  and  soon  freed 
her  friend  from  it,  presenting  herself  once  more  in 
the  parlor. 

Later  on,  at  the  breakfast  table,  in  the  presence  of 
Don  Acisclo  and  Father  Enrique  and  the  other  guests, 
and  when  she  had  recovered  from  her  first  emotion, 
Dofla  Luz  was  able  to  speak  to  Don  Jaime  with  com- 
posure. She  found  him  disposed  to  agree  to  all  her 
"wishes.  As  neither  she  nor  Don  Jaime  had  any  one 
to  consult  but  themselves,  they  decided  to  be  married 
quietly  and  as  soon  a.«?  possible. 

lu  order  to  explain  his  prolonged  stay  in  the  town 
without  making  the  engagement  public,  Don  Jaime 
announced  his  intention  of  remaining  a  week  longer 
in  Villaf  ria,  in  order  to  come  to  a  decision  regarding 
the  olive  plantation,  for  the  purchase  of  which  he  had 
been  negotiating. 


XV. 

FIRST  SKETCH   OF  A   MATRIMONIAL  IDYL. 

It  is  difficult  to  keep  anything  secret  in  a  small 
place.  Everything  is  known  the  instant  it  occurs, 
no  matter  what  efforts  may  be  made  to  conceal  it. 
It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  then,  that  the  engage- 
ment between  Don  Jaime  and  Doiia  Luz,  which  there 


188  DOSfA  LUZ. 

was  no  reason  for  concealing,  should  immediately 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  every  one  in  Villafria. 

Don  Jaime's  prolonged  stay  in  the  town  was  con- 
sequently attributed  to  its  true  motive,  and  no  One 
regarded  the  purchase  of  the  olive  plantation  as  any- 
thing more  than  a  pretext. 

This  case  of  love  at  first  sight,  and  especially  the 
suddenness  of  the  engagement,  gave  rise  to  much 
comment,  discussion,  and  gossip. 

In  the  country  towns  of  Andalusia  there  is  nothing 
that  creates  so  much  surprise  as  a  sudden  marriage. 
In  that  part  of  the  country  it  is  the  custom  to  do 
everything  with  a  great  deal  of  deliberation.  In  no 
place  is  the  English  proverb,  "  Time  is  money,"  less 
applicable  than  here.  In  no  place  is  there  more  fre- 
quent occasion  in  daily  life  for  the  classical  and  ultra- 
Spanish  saying,  "  To  make  time  " — that  is,  to  lose 
time,  to  spend  it  without  regretting  its  loss  or  finding 
tedious  its  slow,  infinite,  and  silent  passage  ;  but  there 
is  nothing  in  which  procrastination  is  carried  so  far 
in  Andalusia  as  in  the  matter  of  engagements.  The 
wisdom  which,  recognizing  the  serious  and  important 
nature  of  matrimony,  has  suggested  the  counsel, 
"  Consider  well  before  you  marry  the  step  you  are 
about  to  take,"  contributes  to  this  in  part;  and  the 
fact  that  this  considering  "  well  the  step  you  are 
about  to  take "  is  extremely  amusing  contributes 
much  more  to  it.     It  is  the  best  means  of  killing  or 


FIRST  SKETCH  OP  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL.  189 

of  "making  time";  it  is  an  agreeable  occupation 
which  the  man  who  has  nothing  else  to  do  may  en- 
gage in,  and  which  he  no  sooner  marries  than  he 
loses. 

Hence,  doubtless,  the  interminable  engagements 
of  my  native  province,  where  are  given  besides  the 
most  admirable  examples  of  unshaken  constancy 
which  the  annals  of  romance  can  offer.  Here  are  to 
be  found  cases  of  engagements  dating  from  the  time 
when  the  lover  began  to  study  Latin  at  school,  con- 
tinuing during  his  studies  in  polite  literature,  law,  or 
medicine,  and  terminating  in  marriage  only  when  he 
becomes  judge  of  the  lower  court  or  titular  physician. 
During  all  this  time  the  engaged  couple  write  to  each 
other  when  they  are  separated,  and  when  they  are  in 
the  same  town  they  see  each  other  at  mass  in  the 
mornings ;  they  meet  two  or  three  times  again  in 
the  course  of  the  day ;  they  chat  together  during  the 
hour  of  the  siesta,  see  each  other  in  the  afternoon 
during  the  promenade,  go  to  the  same  party  in  the 
evening,  and  after  supper  see  each  other  again  and 
chat  together  at  the  window,  and  there  are  nights 
when  they  remain  once  more  chatting  together,  their 
faces  pressed  to  the  bars  until  the  rosy-fingered  dawn 
appears  in  the  east. 

In  proof  of  this  it  is  related  of  a  certain  lover  of 
Antequera  that,  being  obliged  to  marry  after  an  en- 
gagement of  eight  years,  he  soon  afterward  fell  into 


190  doSJa  luz. 

low  spirits  from  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  his 
time.  I  have  heard  it  also  related  of  another  lover,  a 
native  of  Carcabuey,  in  proof  of  the  firm  conviction 
entertained  in  that  part  of  the  country  that  matri- 
mony requires  a  great  deal  of  consideration  before 
entering  upon  it,  that  his  future  mother-in-law,  re- 
flecting that  her  daughter  had  been  for  thirteen  years 
receiving  his  attentions  without  his  having  ever  pro- 
posed to  her,  and  that  she  was  beginning  to  decline 
in  her  looks,  resolved  to  ask  the  lover  what  his  inten- 
tions were.  And  having  summoned  the  necessary 
resolution  to  ask  the  question,  the  lover  responded, 
very  much  surprised  and  a  little  displeased :  "  Good 
heavens,  seflora !  Is  it  at  the  suggestion  of  some  secret 
enemy  of  mine  that  you  ask  me  this  question  ?  " 

Such  Avholesome  doctrines  prevailing  in  Villafria 
with  regard  to  the  duration  of  engagements,  the 
reader  will  understand  the  surprise  caused  by  the  sud- 
denness, the  lack  of  consideration,  with  which  Dofia 
Luz  had  come  to  a  decision  in  this  important  matter. 

"  This  is  something  sudden,"  said  one. 

"  Why,"  said  another,  "  the  matter  is  very  simple. 
If  she  declared  that  it  was  her  intention  never  to 
marry,  it  was  only  through  self-conceit,  because  she 
scorned  the  people  of  the  place ;  but  no  sooner  did  a 
coxcomb  arrive  here  from  the  capital  than  she  lay  in 
wait  for  him  and  caught  him  in  her  toils,  as  a  spider 
catches  a  fly." 


FIRST  SKETCH  OP  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL.  191 

The  lovers  she  had  disdained,  who  had  before  been 
resigned,  consoling  themselves  with  the  supposition 
that  the  scorn  of  Dofla  Luz  sprang  from  her  love  for 
God  and  heaven,  when  they  knew  that  Dofla  Luz  had 
so  strong  a  liking  for  the  earth  and  for  a  man  like 
themselves,  could  not  forgive  her  either,  and  censured 
her  for  her  fickleness. 

"  She  has  thrown  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  first 
comer,"  they  exclaimed,  "  without  either  loving  or  es- 
teeming him,  for  neither  love  nor  esteem  are  of  so 
sudden  growth.  The  desire  to  shine  in  Madrid  is 
what  has  tempted  her." 

Even  the  gypsy  who  made  and  sold  buns  at  the 
corner  of  the  street  near  Don  Acisclo's  house,  a  very 
sententious  person  called  La  Filigrana,  more  famous 
for  the  pithiness  of  her  sayings  than  Pedro  Lombardo 
himself,  said  ironically : 

*'  Dona  Luz  is  an  Oriental  pearl,  and  the  pearl 
takes  no  thought  of  the  diver's  worth ;  what  it  desires 
is  to  be  caught  and  carried  to  shine  in  the  Olen  del 
Oclaye." 

Not  a  few  of  these  comments  reached  the  ears  of 
Dofia  Luz,  but  they  made  no  impression  on  her  heart. 
There  was  no  strain  of  truth  in  them  that  found  an 
echo  in  her  clear  and  tranquil  conscience.  Dofia  Luz 
was  a  woman,  and  she  had  a  soul,  and  felt  the  need 
for  love.  Her  love,  without  a  visible  and  human  ob- 
ject on  which  to  expend  itself  had  been  dormant,  as  it 

13 


192  DoSfA  Luz; 

were,  until  now.  A  worthy  object  had  at  last  pre- 
sented itself  to  her,  and  Dofla  Luz  dedicated  at  once 
to  this  object  all  her  love.  Every  day,  every  hour 
that  passed,  confirmed  her  more  and  more  in  the  be- 
lief that  Don  Jaime  was  worthy  of  her  love.  The 
very  love  of  Don  Jaime,  the  disinterestedness  with 
which  he  had  offered  himself  to  her,  unprotected, 
poor,  and  an  orphan  as  she  was,  were  the  best  and 
surest  guarantee  of  his  merit. 

As  to  her  marrying  through  the  desire  of  going  to 
shine  in  Madrid,  Dofia  Luz  smiled  disdainfully  when 
this  remark  was  repeated  to  her,  Dofia  Luz  was  re- 
solved not  to  go  to  Madrid  so  long  as  she  could  avoid 
doing  so,  but  to  remain  in  Villafria,  and  to  reside  in 
the  ancestral  house — to  have  her  headquarters,  her 
nest  there ;  to  attend  to  her  property,  improving  and 
adding  to  it;  to  repress  every  jealous  inclination  in 
her  heart,  and  not  only  to  consent  to  his  going,  but 
to  urge  her  husband  to  go  alone  to  the  capital  and  to 
win  there  a  name  for  himself  as  a  statesman  and  a 
soldier.  Dofia  Luz  wished  in  this  to  follow  the  ex- 
ample of  Vittoria  Colonna  and  to  await  her  hero,  her 
lover,  when  he  should  come  to  repose  in  this  rural  re- 
treat which  her  love  would  make  attractive  and  de- 
lightful. 

She  did  not  wish,  in  short,  to  be  a  burden  on  him 
in  Madrid,  but  a  rest,  a  refuge,  a  holy  and  sweet  con- 
solation in  Villafria. 


FIRST  SKETCH  OP  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL,  I93 

During  her  tender  conversations  with  Don  Jaime 
Dofla  Luz  disclosed  to  him  her  whole  plan.  She  de- 
sired for  him  glory,  power,  influence  at  court,  varied 
with  a  series  of  idyls  in  Villafria,  where  she  would 
await  him  like  a  beneficent  Armida,  when  he  came  to 
repose  in  her  arms,  covered  with  fresh  laurels.  Don 
Jaime  urged  Dofla  Luz  to  accompany  him  to  Madrid, 
but  Dofla  Luz  resisted  his  persuasions  with  so  much 
determination  that  Don  Jaime  was  obliged  to  make  a 
compromise,  and  to  consent  that,  for  the  present,  that 
is  to  say  until  both  were  much  richer  than  they  now 
were,  Dofla  Luz  should  continue  to  reside  in  Villafria. 

All  this  was  so  romantic  that  the  reader,  aware  of 
it,  will  assuredly  not  be  disposed  to  find  fault  with 
Dofla  Luz  as  did  the  people  of  the  town  ;  but  if  they 
should  do  so  it  will  be  for  contrary  reasons — for  being 
too  proud  and  eccentric,  for  preferring  to  live  many 
months  in  the  year  separated  from  her  husband  to 
being  a  constant  source  of  prosaic  and  pecuniary  diffi- 
culties to  him  in  Madrid,  which  would  be  enough  to 
destroy  the  strongest  love. 

Dofla  Luz,  her  future  thus  marked  out  with  firm- 
ness by  her  own  hand,  found  in  her  soul  motive  only 
for  satisfaction  and  happiness.  All  her  being  sprang 
into  bloom.  The  sweet  longing  to  be  a  wife  and 
mother  filled  her  with  thoughts  of  ineffable  tender- 
ness. An  interior  light  illumined  her  mind,  trans- 
figuring her,  and  seemed  to  reflect  itself  on  her  coun- 


194  DO^A  LUZ. 

tenance,  lending  her  a  new  and  divine  beauty.  As 
the  fields  break  into  bloom  at  the  coming  of  the 
spring,  as  the  heavens  are  dyed  with  purple  and  gold 
when  the  sun  is  about  to  make  its  appearance  above 
the  horizon,  thus  did  Dofla  Luz  now  appear  more 
blooming  and  refulgent  than  ever. 

Her  happiness  was  of  so  dignified,  so  generous,  and 
so  trustful  a  nature,  and  the  divine  expression  this 
happiness  lent  her  lovely  face  was  so  winning  that 
censure  was  at  last  disarmed,  and  those  who  looked 
at  her  could  not  help  but  call  down  a  blessing  upon 
her. 

In  her  mind,  with  the  exception  of  one  little  cor- 
ner deep  in  its  inmost  recesses  which  remained 
wrapped  in  shadow,  all  was  light  and  joy.  There, 
scarcely  perceptible,  was  a  germ,  a  seed,  as  it  were,  of 
uneasiness  and  disquietude.  Dona  Luz,  almost  un- 
consciously, with  the  instinct  of  self-preservation, 
sought  to  uproot  this  seed,  to  stifle  this  germ,  in  or- 
der that  it  might  not  bear  poisonous  fruit. 

Dona  Luz  reflected  on  her  anomalous  relations 
with  Father  Enrique,  on  the  warm  friendship  and 
affection  he  had  always  manifested  toward  her.  It 
is  plain  that  this  friendship,  this  affection,  could,  in 
the  mind  of  Dona  Luz,  have  nothing,  even  remotely, 
in  common  with  love.  But  for  this  very  reason  her 
affection  for  the  priest  should  remain  unchanged,  and 
the  proofs  of  this  affection  should  neither  cease  nor 


FIRST  SKETCH  OF  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL.  195 

diminish,  under  penalty  of  giving  rise  to  the  suspicion 
in  her  soul  that  they  were  of  the  same  nature  as  the 
affection  she  cherished  in  her  soul  for  her  future  hus- 
band ;  that  she  had  been  capricious  and  inconstant ; 
that  she  had  bestowed  upon  one  man,  not  the  love, 
free  and  intact,  which  she  had  never  yet  given  to  any 
one,  which  she  had  carefully  treasured  in  her  heart, 
but  a  part,  and  only  a  part,  of  what  she  had  already 
bestowed  upon  and  then  taken  away  from  another. 

Doiia  Luz  then  endeavored,  although  in  vain,  to 
be  as  amiable  and  affectionate  us  before  with  Father 
Enrique ;  and,  as  she  saw  that  this  was  impossible,  as 
she  saw  that  from  the  contact  of  her  soul  with  the 
soul  of  the  priest,  whether  by  means  of  words  or 
glances,  resulted,  not  as  before,  heat  and  magnetic 
light,  but  ice,  she  explained  to  herself  this  fact  by 
the  hypothesis  that  there  are  not  in  the  human  heart 
energy  and  vigor  sufficient  for  various  affections,  and 
that  where  one  affection  predominates  the  others  de- 
cline and  suffer  dimunition,  although  they  may  be  of 
a  very  different  class  and  nature. 

Father  Enrique's  soul  continued  to  be  as  before 
for  Dofla  Luz,  clear,  transparent,  and  impenetrable  as 
the  unfathomable  sea  that  girdles  the  Andalusian 
coast.  The  sun  floods  its  depths  with  light,  and,  to 
a  certain  distance,  all  within  is  clearly  visible ;  but  its 
profoundest  recesses,  with  their  changing  hues,  opal- 
ine tints,  silvery  reflections,  and  flashing  lights  baffle 


196  DO^A  LUZ. 

the  gaze  that  seeks  to  penetrate  them,  and  present  to 
it  only  confused  and  indistinct  images.  Father  En- 
rique had  not  changed,  apparently,  at  least.  The 
same  serenity,  the  same  sweetness  characterized  him 
as  ever.  The  tone  of  his  voice  remained  unaltered, 
whether  speaking  of  Don  Jaime  or  addressing  him. 
In  conversing  Avith  Dofla  Luz  the  priest  showed  the 
same  affectionate  benevolence  as  formerly.  Not  a 
single  word  did  he  utter  in  which  could  be  perceived 
the  faintest  tinge  of  irony,  pique,  or  disappointment. 

"Either  Father  Enrique  has  an  extraordinary 
amount  of  self-control,"  thought  Dofia  Luz,  "  or  he 
has  never  cared  for  me.  It  would  be  rather  absurd  if 
Manuela's  suspicion,  which,  when  I  heard  it,  I  re- 
garded as  a  base  and  wicked  insinuation,  should,  after 
all,  derive  its  chief  coiintenance  from  my  own  ridicu- 
lous vanity,  and,  analyzing  the  matter  more  closely, 
have  flattered  instead  of  vexing  me.  No,  there  is  not 
a  doubt  of  it ;  Father  Enrique  respects  me ;  he  has  a 
high  opinion  of  me,  thanks  to  his  too  indulgent  esti- 
mate of  my  character ;  he  likes  me  as  a  fellow-being 
to  whom  he  is  bound  by  ties  of  friendship ;  but  any- 
thing more  than  this  is  a  fantastic  dream,  has  no 
existence  except  in  my  own  vain  fancy.  And  it  is 
best  that  it  should  be  so." 

And  as  Dofla  Luz  ended  she  sighed  as  if  her  heart 
had  been  relieved  of  a  heavy  weight. 

On  other  occasions,  anxious  to  lighten  her  con- 


FIRST  SKETCH  OP  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL.  197 

science  still  further,  to  relieve  herself  of  all  respon- 
sibility, although  by  the  arguments  just  adduced  she 
had  demonstrated  to  her  own  satisfaction  that  no  re- 
sponsibility of  a  nature  that  could  trouble  her  con- 
science rested  upon  her,  Dona  Luz  went  over  in  her 
mind  all  the  favors  she  had  bestowed  upon  the  priest ; 
she  deprived  of  their  value  and  significance  all  the 
proofs  of  affection  she  had  given  him;  she  reduced 
them  all  to  the  narrow  proportions  of  a  cold  and 
austere  friendship,  like  that  which  may  and  should 
exist  between  pupil  and  master,  casting  from  her 
mind  or  effacing  from  it  every  painful  recollection, 
and  holding  herself  guiltless  even  of  the  most  inno- 
cent act  of  coquetry. 

Meanwhile  the  days  followed  one  another,  and  the 
day  of  the  wedding,  which  was  to  be  a  very  simple 
one,  was  close  at  hand. 

Don  Acisclo  and  Pepe  Giieto,  however,  had  made 
a  trip  to  Seville  to  buy  presents  for  the  bride,  each 
according  to  his  means. 

Don  Acisclo's  present  was  magnificent.  It  con- 
sisted of  a  pair  of  diamond  ear-rings  and  a  diamond 
brooch  which  cost  him  two  thousand  dollars.  Pepe 
Giieto's  was  a  bracelet  costing  ten  thousand  reals. 

Don  Jaime  had  ordered  some  ornaments  and 
jewels  from  Madrid  which  were  now  hourly  ex- 
pected. 

Don  Jaime  manifested  the  utmost  impatience ;  he 


198  D05fA  LUZ. 

seemed  deeply  in  love  and  urged  on  the  preparations 
for  the  wedding. 

The  nearer  the  longed-for  day  came,  the  more 
tender  were  the  lovers,  the  more  interminable  their 
conversations.  They  rode  on  horseback  together, 
Dofia  Luz  on  her  black  horse,  Don  Jaime  on  a  hand- 
some horse  of  Don  Acisclo's.  They  also  took  walks 
together  in  company  with  Dona  Manolita,  who  was 
greatly  delighted  to  have  been  the  mediatrix  in  this 
happy  union. 

Father  Enrique  continued  to  dine  at  the  house  of 
Don  Acisclo,  but  alleging  his  studies  as  an  excuse,  he 
breakfasted  in  his  own  house,  where  Ramon  prepared 
and  served  him  a  frugal  breakfast. 

He  now,  too,  either  remained  away  from  the  even- 
ing gatherings  altogether,  or  retired  earlier  than  had 
been  his  wont,  but  there  was  nothing  strange  in 
this. 

Don  Acisclo  and  Don  Pepe  Gueto  set  him  the 
example.  And,  indeed,  the  whispered  conversation 
of  the  lovers  and  their  obliviousness  to  all  that  sur- 
rounded them  offered  little  inducement  to  any  other 
course. 

Don  Anselmo  dropped  in  now  and  then,  remain- 
ing but  a  short  time.  lie  no  longer  entered  into  dis- 
cussions with  Father  Enrique,  nor  expounded  his  phil- 
osophical theories,  for  Dofia  Luz  paid  no  attention  to 
any  one  but  Don  Jaime. 


FIRST  SKETCH  OF  A  MATRIMONIAL  IDYL.  199 

Thus  the  reunions  which  had  once  been  so  ani- 
mated were  now  for  the  most  part  deserted. 

Don  Acisclo,  Don  Anselmo,  Pepe  Giieto,  and  the 
parish  priest  would  slip  away,  and  there  would  only 
remain  the  lovers,  engaged  in  their  eternal  "chit- 
chat," as  Doiia  Manolita  called  it;  the  latter,  who 
resigned  herself  with  pleasure  to  playing  the  role  of 
duenna ;  Palomo,  the  greyhound,  who  would  lie  down 
at  the  feet  of  Don  Jaime,  for  whom  he  had  conceived 
a  strong  attachment,  instinctively  divining,  perhaps, 
the  love  he  bore  his  mistress ;  and  at  times  the  parish 
priest,  Don  Miguel,  on  whom  the  whispering  of  the 
lovers  produced  precisely  the  same  effect  as  the  dis- 
putes and  the  disquisitions  of  the  philosophers  had 
done,  lulling  him  gently  to  sleep,  and  causing  him  to 
dream,  perhaps,  of  the  important  part  he  himself  was 
going  to  act  in  the  delightful  drama  that  was  going 
on,  when  he  should  be  called  upon  to  pronounce  the 
nuptial  benediction. 

Don  Jaime  and  Dofla  Luz,  having  no  one  to  con- 
sult but  themselves,  and  having  resolved  that  the 
ceremony  should  take  place  with  as  few  formalities 
and  as  quietly  as  possible,  all  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions were  soon  made,  and  it  now  wanted  only  four 
days  to  the  celebration  of  the  marriage. 

It  had  been  Don  Acisclo's  desire  to  invite  all  his 
relations  and  connections  to  the  wedding,  and  to  cele- 
brate the  event  by  a  feast  and  a  ball;  but  to  this 


200  DOJJA  LUZ. 

Dofla  Luz,  thanking  him  warmly  at  the  same  time 
for  his  kind  intentions,  as  well  as  for  his  sumptuous 
present,  refused  to  consent,  saying  that  she  wished 
her  marriage  to  be,  if  not  a  secret,  at  least  a  private 
one. 

"A  marriage  with  muffled  bells,"  said  Don  Acis- 
clo,  who  was  greatly  addicted  to  the  figurative  use  of 
the  word  bell. 

"  Just  so ;  a  marriage  with  muffled  bells,"  answered 
Dofia  Luz. 


XVI. 

MEDITATIONS. 


Father  Enrique,  as  we  have  already  said,  was 
not  idle  during  all  this  time;  he  did  not  limit  his 
activity  to  disputing  and  conversing  in  the  reunions 
at  Don  Acisclo's. 

In  the  solitude  of  his  own  room  he  passed  hour 
after  hour  reading  and  writing. 

As  he  Avas  extremely  modest,  he  cherished  no  ex- 
pectation of  producing  a  book  which,  when  given  to 
the  world,  should  greatly  benefit  humanity,  and  yet 
he  was  now  unceasingly  engaged  in  the  composition 
of  an  extensive  work.  It  was  an  apology,  or  new  de- 
fense of  Christianity  against  the  fiercest  attacks  of  the 
pantheists,  positivists,  and  materialists. 


MEDITATIONS.  201 

The  rare  and  winning  candor  of  the  priest's  char- 
acter revealed  itself  in  every  word  of  this  remarkable 
work.  One  might  have  called  it,  rather  than  a  po- 
lemical work,  a  monologue,  or  rather  a  dialogue,  in 
Avhich  two  voices  in  the  soul  spoke  alternately.  His 
understanding,  cold  and  calculating,  independent  of 
faith,  proposed  as  many  arguments — now  metaphysi- 
cal, now  historical,  now  based  on  the  experimental 
sciences — as  can  be  brought  against  supernatural  reve- 
lation, the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  even  the  exist- 
ence of  God.  And  his  understanding,  too,  illumined 
by  a  higher  light  and  supported  and  strengthened  by 
faith,  answered  these  arguments,  satisfying  its  own 
doubts  with  the  victory. 

In  this  work  there  was  nothing  artificial  or  con- 
ventional. It  was  the  individuality  of  the  priest 
truthfully  reflected.  It  was  as  if  faith,  imprisoned  in 
the  fortress  of  his  soul,  struggled  with  human  speech, 
whose  object  it  was  not  to  gain  the  victory  over  faith, 
but  to  use  all  possible  efforts  to  that  end  in  order  to 
behold  faith  come  out  victorious  and  triumphant  over 
those  very  efforts. 

Since  the  an-ival  of  the  representative  Don  Jaime 
the  priest  had  gradually  shortened  the  length  of  his 
visits  at  Don  Acisclo's,  and  consequently  spent  more 
and  more  time  in  his  solitary  abode. 

His  book  did  not  progress  the  more  rapidly  on 
this  account.     On  the  contrary,  it  made  less  progress 


202  DONA  LUZ. 

than  before.  The  priest  would  seat  himself  at  his 
desk,  place  before  him  the  paper  ready  to  receive  his 
thoughts  as  they  occurred  to  him,  to  be  afterward 
arranged  according  to  a  judicious  and  well-considered 
plan  ;  then  he  would  take  up  his  pen.  But  all  was  in 
vain.  No  idea  presented  itself  to  his  imagination 
with  the  clearness  or  conciseness  necessary  to  its  ex- 
pression. A  sea  of  thoughts  and  feelings  surged  up 
in  his  mind,  in  which  a  tempest  seemed  to  rage, 
mingling  together  in  confusion,  and  producing  not  a 
harmonious  creation,  but  a  tenebrous  chaos. 

In  this  way,  laying  down  his  pen,  the  priest 
would  sit  hour  after  hour,  his  elbow  resting  on  the 
table,  his  head  leaning  on  his  hand,  without  making 
any  effort  to  write.  At  times  he  would  walk  with 
hasty  steps  up  and  down  the  room,  again  he  would 
throw  himself  into  his  chair  and  bury  his  face  in  his 
hands.  Never  before  had  he  felt  himself  so  inactive, 
so  incapable,  so  barren  of  ideas. 

One  day  he  closed  the  volume  in  which  he  wrote 
down  his  notes  with  disgust,  and  began  to  write  on 
some  loose  sheets  of  paper.  Doubtless  inspiration 
then  came  to  his  aid.  His  pen  ran  on  swiftly  as  if 
the  torrent  of  his  ideas,  seeking  egress,  had  imparted 
to  it  an  irresistible  motion. 

By  what  strange  magic  Avas  it  that  the  priest  found 
this  facility  in  writing  on  these  loose  sheets  when  he 
had  found  it  so  difficult  to  write  in  his  book  ?    The 


MEDITATIONS.  203 

magic  was  not  in  the  book  nor  in  tlie  paper,  but  in 
the  subject. 

He  had  just  come  to  the  determination  to  write  on 
another  subject,  a  subject  of  singular  importance  to 
him,  which  had  occupied  his  thoughts  for  a  long  time 
past,  which  weighed  upon  his  mind,  and  of  which  it 
was  necessary  to  unburden  himself.  For  this  reason 
it  was  that  his  pen  ran  swiftly. 

The  priest  was  transferring  to  the  paper  the  hid- 
den secrets  of  his  soul. 

"  It  does  not  suffice,  0  my  God,"  he  wrote,  "  that 
I  should  confess  myself  to  thee !  What  darkness  is 
there  that  thy  light  can  not  pierce?  What  abyss  can 
thy  glance  not  penetrate  ?  Thou  knowest  all  things. 
There  is  nothing  I  can  make  known  to  thee.  All  I  can 
do  is  to  ask  thy  pardon.  But  the  weight  of  this  secret 
of  my  soul  overwhelms  me  so  long  as  it  dwells  form- 
less and  unexpressed  in  its  depths,  known  to  thee  alone. 
Yes,  confession,  independent  even  of  its  sacred  virtue 
as  a  sacrament,  is,  indeed,  a  well-spring  of  consolation ; 
it  is  at  least  a  relief.  To  confess  our  pangs,  our 
humiliations  or  our  sins  to  another  is  to  share  them 
with  that  other.  But  to  what  fellow-creature  can  I 
confess?  My  friends,  the  wise  directors  of  my  con- 
science, those  in  whom  I  was  wont  to  confide,  are  far 
away  in  the  islands  of  the  sea  in  the  distant  East. 
It  is  true  that  any  priest  seated  in  the  confessional, 
invested  by  God  himself  with  the  power  of  imposing 


204  DOSfA  LUZ. 

penance  and  absolving  sin,  receives  by  divine  grace 
what,  perhaps,  he  has  not  received  from  nature — 
lucidity  of  spirit  to  understand  all  he  hears.  And 
yet  I  can  not  resolve  to  confess  myself  to  the  good  and 
amiable  Don  Miguel.  What  should  I  say  to  him? 
Have  I  anything  definite  or  conclusive  to  tell  him  ? 
Have  I  sinned  by  breaking  the  divine  commandments  ? 
My  fault  is  grave,  very  grave,  and  yet  I  can  not  confess 
it  to  Don  Miguel  without  entering  into  details  and 
mentioning  names,  without  compromising  one  whom 
I  have  no  right  to  compromise.  I  may  throw  myself 
at  the  feet  of  this  good  priest  and  say  to  him  that  I 
am  proud,  envious,  unworthy,  and  ask  him  to  impose 
a  penance  upon  me  and  absolve  me;  but  the  worst 
part  of  my  fault  will  remain  unconfessed  ;  for  a  thou- 
sand reasons  it  can  not  be  communicated  to  him. 

"  Am  I  then  deprived  of  the  consolations  of  con- 
fession ?  To  a  certain  extent  I  can  cast  off  the  weight 
that  oppresses  me,  delivering  my  soul  from  it  by  put- 
ting it  into  written  words,  although  no  one  may  read 
them.  Language  is  a  divine  gift  and  possesses  among 
its  other  virtues  a  wonderful  power  of  consolation. 
Thoughts  that  are  expressed  and  defined  in  words 
are,  as  it  were,  bound  and  imprisoned  in  them,  and  no 
longer  torture  and  rend  the  soul  like  thoughts  that 
remain  in  it  vague  and  unexpressed.  Besides,  in 
order  to  know  myself  better,  to  recognize  the  nature 
of  my  malady,  it  is  well  to  present  it  before  me  in  a 


MEDITATIONS.  205 

clear  and  distinct  manner.  How  should  we  know 
what  our  external  aspect,  our  appearance  is  but 
through  its  reflection  in  the  glass  ?  So  with  the  soul, 
although  we  feel  the  anguish  that  rends  it,  we  can 
not  understand  the  nature  or  the  cause  of  this  anguish 
so  long  as  it  remains  confused  in  the  depths  of  the 
soul  itself  and  is  not  expressed  and  defined  in  human 
speech.  I  wish,  then,  courageously  to  look  into  my 
soul,  and,  tearing  ofE  the  bandages  that  hide  them, 
examine  with  my  own  eyes  my  wounds. 

"  Beauty  is  the  work  of  God ;  but  let  us  not  call 
God  to  account  for  the  use  that  may  be  made  of  his 
work.  The  potter  fashions  an  exquisite  vase ;  but  he 
is  not  therefore  responsible  for  the  poison  that  may  be 
put  into  it  and  which  our  thirsty  lips  drain,  perhaps, 
to  the  dregs. 

"  She  is  beautiful  both  in  mind  and  person.  Her 
eyes,  blue  as  the  heavens,  reveal  only  pure  and  sinless 
thoughts  and  feelings.  I  can  not  accuse  her  of  the 
slightest  desire,  even  instinctive  and  unconscious,  to 
allure.  No  treacherous  plot,  no  blind  impulse  to  work 
my  ruin  lurked  in  her  soul ;  and  this  has  been  the  cause 
of  my  ruin.  Against  the  eifects  of  such  a  plot,  of  such 
an  impulse,  I  should  have  known  well  how  to  protect 
myself.  I  should  not  even  have  found  it  necessary  to 
protect  myself.  Knowing  the  intention,  conscious  of 
the  deceit,  instead  of  being  attracted  I  should  have 
been  disgusted.      Her  innocence,  her  holy  purity — 


206  DOSfA  LUZ. 

these  have  been  the  weapons  with  which  she  has  pierced 
my  soul.  Believing  me  dedicated  to  God,  the  re- 
cipient of  his  favors,  a  witness  of  his  perfections,  she 
could  neither  suspect  me  of  error  nor  did  she  arro-. 
gantly  presume  that  for  her  I  could  forget  God. 
Therefore  did  she  reveal  to  me  the  hidden  beauty  of 
her  soul  with  all  the  fearless  candor  of  innocence. 
She  opened  her  heart  to  me,  she  revealed  to  me  the 
inner  depths  of  her  conscience,  and  I  became  intoxi- 
cated with  its  perfume. 

"  A  cunning  plan,  skillfully  framed  by  my  passion, 
ripened  in  my  mind,  presenting  itself  as  exempt  from 
sin.  In  forming  this  plan  I  relied  on  the  qualities  of 
her  character  and  the  circumstances  with  which  blind 
fate  had  surrounded  her.  Who  was  there  here  for 
her  to  love?  If  she  had  remained  to  the  age  of 
twenty-eight  without  allowing  her  fancy  to  be  cap- 
tivated by  any  man,  was  it  not  probable,  almost  cer- 
tain, that  she  would  remain  so  to  the  end  of  her  days? 
«  All  the  force  of  will,  all  the  treasure  of  affection  that 
I  discovered  in  her  soul,  all  the  elevated  and  generous 
thoughts  which  exercised  her  mind,  all  those  nameless 
aspirations,  infinite,  divine,  which  germinated  in  her 
spirit  in  an  ideal  and  perennial  spring,  all  those  heav- 
enly blossoms  blooming  in  the  sheltered  garden  of 
her  fancy  and  cultivated  with  care  by  her  right  reason, 
disposed  by  nature,  education,  and  divine  favor  to 
righteousness  and  purity,  to  whom  should  she  dedi- 


MEDITATIONS.  207 

cate  and  consecrate  them  ?  To  God,  and  only  to  God, 
I  thought.  But,  with  selfish  intent,  hardly  confessing 
it  to  myself,  I  presently  determined  in  my  own  mind 
that  I  was  to  be  the  channel  through  which  so  much 
worth  should  return  to  God,  from  whom  it  had  pro- 
ceeded. 

"Surrounded  by  uncultivated  rustics  as  she  is, 
who  is  there  to  comprehend  her  but  me  ?  Who  but 
me  could  direct  and  explain  her  vague  dreams  ?  Who 
interpret  the  problems  that  beset  her  mind?  Who 
point  out  to  her  the  aim  toward  which  to  direct  her 
prayers  and  aspirations  that  they  might  not  fly  wide 
of  the  mark,  and  fall  to  earth  without  touching  it? 
Who  could  unfold  to  her  reason,  eager  for  truth,  the 
sublime  mysteries  of  our  faith  ?  Who  explain  to  her 
the  causes  of  things  and  the  laws  that  govern  them, 
as  far  as  it  is  possible  to  know  these  causes  and  these 
laws?  Who  serve  to  guide  her  spirit  in  its  daring 
flights,  when  it  soars  above  the  natural  world  and  the 
visible  universe,  longing  to  reach  its  inaccessible, 
eternal,  and  exhaustless  source  ?  In  a  word,  I  pleased 
myself  with  the  thought  that  I  was  her  master,  her 
friend,  the  depositary  of  her  thoughts,  the  confident 
of  her  emotions,  that  at  my  pleasure  I  could  moderate 
or  accelerate  the  pulsations  of  her  enthusiastic  heart. 
But  never,  0,  my  God,  did  it  occur  to  me  to  rob  thee 
of  the  torrent  of  love  that  flowed  from  it  toward, 
thee.     But  I  selfishly  thought  to  open  in  my  spirit  a 

14 


208  DOSfA  LUZ. 

channel  for  that  clear,  impetuous,  and  crystal  current 
through  which  it  might  reach  its  goal.  Never  did 
1  dream  of  being  that  goal,  but  only  the  channel 
through  which  its  limpid  waters  should  flow,  spread- 
ing beauty  on  their  way  and  reflecting  the  tranquil 
skies  and  the  pomp  of  nature,  more  beautiful  in  the 
reflection,  and  a  thousand  times  more  enchanting 
than  in  reality. 

"  How  hast  thou  punished  me,  my  God !  How 
hast  thou  punished  me !  But  if  in  the  punishment 
I  recognize  and  venerate  thy  justice,  I  thank  thee  also 
for  thy  mercy.  What  did  I  not  deserve  for  my 
crime?  My  base  calculations  have  been  defeated,  my 
mad  sophisms  have  reacted  against  myself.  I  have 
been  caught  in  the  net  I  had  so  carefully  spread. 

"  And  how  could  I  have  been  so  blind  as  not  to 
see  all  this,  and  to  be  horrified  by  it  ?  I  believed  it 
all  ethereal,  holy,  pure.  There  have  even  been  mo- 
ments of  madness  in  which  I  reproached  her  with 
being  fickle,  false,  perjured,  faithless.  Good  heavens ! 
How  mad  I  was!  She  promised  me  nothing,  she 
bound  herself  to  me  by  no  tie.  She  loved  me  before 
as  she  loves  me  now.  No,  there  has  been  no  change 
in  her.  If  she  had  divined  before  what  I  concealed 
in  my  breast,  it  would  not  have  been  necessary  for 
Don  Jaime  to  come  to  make  her  turn  from  me  with 
horror.     I  myself  did  not  perceive  it  before.     Now  I 


MEDITATIONS.  209 

see  it,  and  it  horrifies  me.  Abominable  thoughts, 
wicked  plans,  hellish  incantations  were  engraven  on 
my  breast,  as  on  a  brazen  tablet,  but  in  sympathetic 
ink,  as  it  were,  that  it  needed  the  reagent  of  jealousy 
to  make  visible  to  my  shame. 

"  Heaven  has  humiliated  my  pride.  I  set  a  higher 
value  upon  myself  than  I  deserved.  My  labors,  my 
works  of  penance,  my  long  and  dangerous  pilgrim- 
ages and  missions  had  gained  for  me,  I  thought,  the 
favor  of  Heaven ;  had  clothed  this  mortal  breast  with 
a  shield  and  diamond  breastplate  which  rendered  me 
invulnerable.  I  dreamed  that  I  had  drowned  in  the 
limitless  sea  of  divine  love  all  earthly  and  perishable 
affections.  I  fancied  that  I  could  now  love  no  one 
and  nothing,  except  through  the  love  of  God.  I  be- 
lieved that  all  perishable  beauty,  all  goodness  of  the 
creature,  all  grace,  all  light,  would  be  in  my  sight 
only  the  faint  and  cold  reflection  of  eternal  beauty, 
goodness,  grace,  and  light,  whose  refulgence  I  imag- 
ined I  caught  glimpses  of,  in  whose  flames  I  took  de- 
light in  feeling  my  heart  burn.  How  did  the  evil 
spirit  flatter  me  in  order  to  bring  about  my  fall! 
How  cunningly  did  he  deceive  me !  How  blind  was 
my  confidence  in  the  beginning !  As  the  skillful  gar- 
dener, when  he  discovers  a  noble  plant  among  the 
weeds,  carries  it  to  his  garden  and  cultivates  it  with 
care,  that  the  vices  contracted  among  the  weeds  may  be 
cured,  and  through  his  efforts  the  plant  may  prosper 


210  DOSfA  LUZ. 

and  produce  fragrant  and  beautiful  flowers  and  deli- 
cious fruits,  thus  did  I,  puffed  up  with  vanity,  finding 
the  beautiful  soul  of  this  woman,  propose  to  myself  to 
improve  it,  to  beautify  it,  and  make  it  blossom  and  pro- 
duce fruit  abundantly  in  virtue,  knowledge,  and  grace. 
This  is  the  form  in  which  the  evil  spirit  presented  his 
suggestions  to  me;  this  was  all  I  acknowledged  to 
myself ;  but  in  the  depths  of  my  corrupt  mind  other 
thoughts  boiled,  other  designs  swarmed  like  a  nest  of 
vipers  hidden  among  health-giving  plants.  All  that 
is  incumbent  upon  me  now  is  to  praise  God  for  the 
undeception,  and  to  thank  Don  Jaime,  who,  putting 
those  plants  aside,  has  stii*red  up  the  vipers  in  their 
nests,  and  has  made  me  see  and  feel  them  that  I  may 
endeavor  to  tear  them  from  my  breast,  although  in 
order  to  do  so  it  may  be  necessary  to  tear  the  flesh  out 
with  them. 

"  My  God,  my  God !  if  thou  dwellest  in  my  soul, 
if  thou  has  not  abandoned  me,  hear  my  voice  and 
console  me  and  pardon  me.  Of  what  value  is  she,  of 
what  value  is  her  beauty,  all  the  freshness  of  her 
youth,  all  the  noble  pride  of  her  glance,  all  the  har- 
mony of  her  form,  all  the  grace  of  her  movements,  if 
I  can  succeed  in  again  turning  my  thoughts  and  my 
will  toward  thee,  in  whom  all  excellence,  all  beauty, 
all  grace,  are  centered  and  summed  up. 

"  Why  didst  thou  place  this  inextinguishable  thirst 
for  love  in  the  soul,  0  my  God?    Doubtless  that  it 


MEDITATIONS.  211 

might  satiate  itself  in  the  divine.  But  thou  knowest 
that  I  sought  thee  in  the  depths  of  my  soul,  and  if 
haply  I  have  found  thee,  it  was  surrounded  by  dark- 
ness, vague,  undefined,  and  confused.  Thus  have  I 
loved  thee  above  all  things.  Thus  have  I  clung  to 
thee  closely.  I  believed  I  beheld  the  glory  and  the 
splendor  of  thy  attributes,  and  I  loved  thee  and 
praised  thee.  Why,  then,  didst  thou  not  manifest  to 
me  with  clearness  thy  beauty  in  the  pure  idea  in  the 
depths  of  my  thought  ?  Why  has  this  beauty,  reflected 
from  thee,  made  its  dazzling  appearance  far  from  thee 
and  outside  of  my  soul,  stirring  my  being  to  its  depths 
not  in  a  spiritual  and  immediate  manner,  but  by 
means  of  the  gross  senses  ? 

"  Forgive  me,  0  Lord !  A  thousand  blasphemies 
fall  from  my  pen.  The  unworthy  sinner,  called  upon 
to  give  a  strict  account  of  his  actions,  appealing  from 
thy  justice,  would  cast  himself  upon  thy  clemency. 
But  thou  knowest  what  I  suffer.  Thou  hast  compas- 
sion upon  me.  Thou  wilt  perhaps  pardon  me.  For- 
merly thou  didst  fill  my  soul — I  beheld  her,  I  was 
fascinated,  and  she  took  thy  place  in  my  soul.  Now 
that  she  has  abandoned  me  the  void,  the  abyss,  the 
solitude  I  feel  terrify  me. 

"  Impious  thoughts  come  into  my  mind.  I  behold 
clearly  the  immensity,  the  omnipotence  of  love,  sole 
end  of  life.  Thou  thyself  canst  be  reached  only 
through  and  by  love ;  but  doubt  oppresses  my  soul  and 


212  I>OSfA  LUZ. 

fills  it  with  anguish.  I  doubt  that  my  finite  being  can 
satisfy  its  love,  uniting  itself  to  an  infinite  being  that 
my  mind  can  not  conceive  nor  my  reason  understand. 
Love  aspires  to  God,  but  how  shall  it  reach  him  ?  On 
the  wings  of  faith  I  might  mount  to  thee,  but  Hope 
has  abandoned  me  and  Faith  droops  her  wings.  I 
ceased  to  aspire  to  thee.  I  desired  to  mingle  my  soul 
with  her  soul  in  order  that,  thus  united,  our  souls 
might  seek  thee;  and  she  has  abandoned  me.  My 
soul  dwells  alone  in  the  tenebrous  regions  of  space — 
in  the  cold  and  fathomless  void — without  a  star  to 
give  it  light  or  heat,  far  from  every  sun,  further  still 
from  tliy  dwelling  place.  My  God!  my  God!  what 
is  to  become  of  my  soul  ? 

"  In  my  affection  for  this  woman  there  was  a  se- 
renity and  a  purity  that  deceived  me.  I  pictured  her 
to  myself  ethereal,  phantasmal,  impalpable  as  the 
angels  may  be,  unattainable  during  this  mortal  life 
as  heaven.  Now,  when  I  think  that  a  mortal  pos- 
sesses the  treasure  of  her  love,  I  seek  in  vain  to  shut 
from  my  vision  the  images  that  my  fancy  conjures 
up.  Formerly  I  thought  I  admired  her  as  one  ad- 
mires a  work  of  art,  disinterestedly,  asking  nothing 
from  it,  itself  its  own  aim  and  end.  And  now  I  see 
that  her  beauty  is  not  the  cold  beauty  of  a  statue,  but 
that  it  trembles  and  glows,  animated  by  the  breath 
of  love. 

"  My  God !  my  God !  what  a  tempest  of  evil  pas- 


MEDITATIONS.  213 

sions  sweeps  through  my  soul !  Why  dost  thou  not 
end  at  once  my  shameful  and  wretched  existence? 
Yes,  death !  death !  before  her  marriage  day  arrives ! " 

The  author  who  writes  with  calm  and  critical 
spirit  strives  to  put,  and,  when  he  has  genius,  suc- 
ceeds in  putting  the  best  there  is  in  his  soul  into  his 
work. 

There  he  sees  his  inner  self  reflected,  and  he 
takes  delight  in  contemplating  its  beauty.  The 
writer  who  is  possessed  by  his  feelings,  on  the  con- 
trary, seeks  relief  in  writing,  as  if  he  thus  sought  to 
cast  from  him  the  poison  that  is  consuming  him  and 
destroying  him. 

Father  Enrique,  writing  with  this  purpose,  now 
transferred  to  the  paper,  with  the  disorder  we  have 
seen,  his  darkest  and  most  bitter  thoughts.  When  he 
had  finished,  by  a  violent  effort  of  the  will  he  suc- 
ceeded in  regaining  comparative  calmness,  at  least 
outwardly. 

On  the  wall  of  his  apartment  was  suspended  an 
ebony  crucifix  with  the  image  of  the  Christ  carved  in 
ivory,  and,  kneeling  before  it,  he  prayed  and  asked 
pardon  for  his  sins  and  for  the  blasphemies  and  evil 
thoughts  he  had  just  written  down  in  order  to  deliver 
his  soul  from  them  and  cast  them  from  his  thoughts, 
if  this  were  possible.  The  priest  asked  a  miracle 
from  God — that  he  might  forget  her  and  cease  to  love 
her,  that  God  might  ordain  that  he  should  believe  it 


214  dojJa  luz. 

•was  not  Dofla  Luz  he  had  loved,  but  a  phantom  bear- 
ing the  likeness  of  Dofla  Luz,  whose  shadowy  form 
was  impalpable  to  mortal  touch,  whose  heart  thrilled 
in  response  to  no  human  affection,  whose  lips  breathed 
response  to  no  earthly  vows,  whose  feet,  in  a  word,  did 
not  rest  upon  this  lower  sphere. 

Be  their  cause  what  it  might,  whether  despair, 
knowing  the  miracle  he  asked  to  be  impossible,  or 
that  his  pious  fervor  had  softened  his  anguish,  two 
tears  rolled  slowly  down  his  emaciated  cheeks. 

Then,  calling  to  his  aid  his  habitual  power  of  self- 
control  and  ashamed  of  a  weakness  which  offended 
his  sense  of  his  personal  dignity,  the  priest  succeeded 
at  last  in  regaining  his  composure,  and  his  counte- 
nance once  more  assumed  its  accustomed  serenity  of 
expression,  and  he  resolved  that  he  would  strive  to 
maintain  this  composure  and  to  appear  calm  and  im- 
passive until  the  very  instant  in  which  Dofla  Luz  and 
Don  Jaime  should  plight  their  troth  at  the  altar  and 
receive  the  nuptial  benediction. 

Placing  the  confession  which  he  had  written  with- 
in the  leaves  of  the  manuscript  of  the  new  apology, 
the  priest  locked  them  both  in  the  drawer  of  his  writ- 
ing desk. 


THE  WEDDING.  215 

XVII. 

THE  WEDDING. 

MEA1STI3IE  Don  Jaime's  present  to  the  bride — an 
elegant  gown  and  a  costly  set  of  diamonds  consisting 
of  a  necklace,  brooch,  and  earrings — had  arrived  from 
Madrid.  Dofla  Luz  could  not  help  reproving  him  for 
what  she  called  his  reckless  extravagance.  She  felt 
remorse  at  being  the  cause  of  such  ruinous  expense, 
but  her  remorse  was  mingled  with  an  infinite  tender- 
ness at  this  proof  of  his  love.  The  severe  reproaches 
which  her  good  judgment  dictated  left  her  lips  neu- 
tralized by  the  sweetness  with  which  they  were  ut- 
tered, and  finally  not  only  lost  all  their  severity,  but 
were  converted  into  passionate  expressions  of  grati- 
tude by  the  loving  glances  which  accompanied  them. 

Dofia  Luz  was  very  far  from  being  vain,  and  still 
farther  from  being  covetous.  Mercenary  considera- 
tions had  no  weight  with  her  ;  she  was  not  dazzled  by 
the  gleam  of  gold  or  precious  stones.  What  capti- 
vated her  was  the  very  folly  of  which  Don  Jaime  had 
been  guilty  for  her  sake  and  his  generosity  and  un- 
selfishness in  making  her  a  gift  so  large  in  comparison 
with  his  means. 

Don  Jaime's  gifts,  then,  if  Dofla  Luz  had  not  been 
already  so  deeply  in  love,  would  have  completed  the 
work  of  captivating  her  heart. 


216  DOSfA  LUZ. 

Dofia  Luz,  who  thought  she  possessed  a  special 
gift  for  reading  character,  had  early  decided  in  her 
own  mind  that  Don  Jaime  was  frank  and  generous. 
His  gifts  confirmed  her  in  this  good  opinion. 

Don  Acisclo,  always  cautious  and  prudent,  when 
he  learned  that  Dofia  Luz  contemplated  marrying, 
although  he  had  positive  knowledge  concerning  Don 
Jaime's  fortune,  suggested  to  her  the  propriety  of 
making  inquiries  with  regard  to  his  character. 

Dofia  Luz  answered  that  she  considered  such  a 
suggestion  as  an  indignity  offered  to  herself,  that  her 
love  for  Don  Jaime  was  the  best  guarantee  of  the 
worth  of  Don  Jaime,  that  if  she  entertained  any 
doubts  regarding  him  she  would  not  love  him,  and 
that  since  she  loved  him  she  could  not  doubt  him 
without  offense  to  herself. 

Don  Acisclo  listened  to  these  and  other  arguments 
of  the  same  nature,  all  which  appeared  to  him  absurd 
and  nonsensical,  without  regarding  them  in  the  least, 
and  wrote  for  information  to  various  persons  who 
were  familiar  with  all  that  was  going  on  in  Madrid. 
These  persons  answered  with  one  accord  that  Don 
Jaime  was  a  man  of  excellent  character,  sound  com- 
mon sense,  and  amiable  disposition,  and,  as  far  as  they 
knew,  without  a  single  vice. 

Don  Acisclo  communicated  the  result  of  his  inves- 
tigation to  Dofia  Luz,  informing  her  with  great  satis- 
faction that,  according  to  the  information  he  had  re- 


THE  WEDDING.  217 

ceived,  Don  Jaime  fell  little  short  of  being  a  pattern 
of  all  the  virtues. 

At  last  the  day  fixed  for  the  wedding  arrived 
and  the  marriage  was  celebrated  very  quietly.  Don 
Miguel,  the  parish  priest,  performed  the  ceremony. 
The  only  persons  present  were  Don  Anselmo,  Pepe 
Giieto  and  his  wife,  Don  Acisclo  and  two  of  his  sons, 
an  intimate  friend  of  Don  Jaime  who  had  come  from 
Madrid  for  the  purpose  (a  colonel  of  cavalry  named 
Don  Antonio  Miranda),  and  the  servants  of  Don 
Acisclo. 

Don  Enrique  also  was  a  witness  of  the  marriage. 
His  force  of  will  triumphed  over  every  obstacle.  He 
was  impassive.  No  one  could  have  imagined  that  this 
calm  and  cheerful  wedding  guest  was  the  same  man 
who  had  written  a  few  days  before  the  passionate 
words  we  have  read. 

Father  Enrique  forgot  nothing.  He  congratu- 
lated Doha  Luz  with  his  usual  affectionate  manner 
and  Don  Jaime  with  the  most  amiable  cordiality. 
Nor  did  he  wish  to  be  behind  Pepe  Gueto  and  Dofia 
Manolita  by  neglecting  to  give  a  wedding  present. 
His  means  were  not  sufficient  to  buy  jewels,  and  he 
possessed  none;  but  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
his  travels,  besides  the  gifts  he  had  made  Don  Acisclo 
after  his  return  from  the  Philippine  Islands,  various 
Japanese,  Chinese,  and  Indian  weapons  with  which 
could  be  formed  a  fine  panoply,  and  a  curious  bronze 


218  DOSfA  LUZ. 

idol  representing  the  god  Siva.  This  was  the  pres- 
ent Father  Enrique  gave  Don  Jaime  to  adorn  his 
study. 

Father  Enrique  had  taken  up  his  quarters  in  his 
uncle's  house  on  the  day  before  the  marriage,  leaving 
at  the  disposal  of  Dofla  Luz  her  own  house  where,  im- 
mediately after  this  event,  the  newly  married  pair 
went  to  reside. 

The  honeymoon  of  Dofla  Luz  was  no  less  sweet 
and  was  much  more  romantic  than  had  been  that  of 
her  friend,  Dona  Manolita.  Daily  intercourse  with 
Don  Jaime,  far  from  lessening  her  esteem  for  him, 
augmented  it  continually,  and  Doila  Luz  each  day  dis- 
covered, or  thought  she  discovered,  in  her  husband 
new  graces  of  intellect  and  character. 

Whether  it  be  due  to  nature  or  to  education  the 
fact  remains  the  same  that  while,  as  a  general  rule,  it 
displeases  a  man  to  learn  that  his  wife  or  his  sweet- 
heart has  had  a  former  lover,  it  pleases  a  woman  and 
increases  her  affection  for  him  to  know  that  her  hus- 
band has  had  some  former  love  affair.  And  this  no 
matter  how  modest  or  how  jealously  inclined  she  may 
be.  The  qualities  that  do  most  honor  to  a  woman  are 
modesty  and  decorum,  those  that  do  most  honor  to  a 
man,  intelligence  and  courage.  Hence  it  results  that 
even  the  most  pious  and  modest  young  girl  far  from 
being  displeased  with  her  future  husband  if  she 
chances  to  discover  that  he  has  been  "  fortunate  "  with 


THE  WEDDING.  219 

the  fair  sex,  will  love  him  for  this  more  exclusively 
and  passionately  than  ever.  She  sees  in  this  "  good 
fortune "  a  proof  of  the  merit  of  the  man  who  has 
been  thus  favored  by  other  women ;  the  value  of  his 
affection  for  herself  is  thereby  enhanced,  since  he  has 
preferred  her  to  so  many  others  whose  affection  he 
might  have  won  or  has  won ;  and  it  almost  seems  as  if 
there  was  conferred  upon  her  a  high  moral  mission, 
flattering  alike  to  her  vanity  and  her  piety,  namely, 
to  render  her  lover — by  virtue  of  her  superior  and 
purer  attractions — constant  to  one  object,  and  to  con- 
vert him  from  a  gay  gallant,  dangerous  to  the  peace 
of  her  sex,  into  an  inoffensive,  tranquil,  and  sensible 
head  of  a  family. 

Politeness,  the  laws  of  decorum — what  the  French 
call  les  convenances  socidles — do  not  admit  of  a  gallant 
boasting  of  his  conquests  before  the  woman  he  is  pay- 
ing his  addresses  to  or  whose  heart  he  has  already 
won ;  but  these  conquests,  if  revealed  to  her  by  any 
other  than  himself,  contribute  singularly  to  augment 
her  love  for  him.  To  have  been  fortunate  in  love  is 
and  always  has  been  one  of  the  most  powerful  means 
at  a  man's  disposal  of  winning  the  love  of  other 
women.  And  this  from  the  heroic  and  primitive  ages 
down  to  our  own  times. 

When  these  convenances  sociales  did  not  forbid  it 
gallants  always  found  the  recital  of  their  fortunate 
love  affairs  a  powerful  aid  in  subduing  and  captivat- 


220  DONA  LUZ. 

ing  hearts.  Homer,  who  knew  or  divined  everything, 
relates  that  Jupiter  being  on  Gargarus,  the  highest 
point  of  Mount  Ida,  was  visited  by  Juno,  who  wore 
hidden  under  her  robe  the  girdle  of  Venus,  in  which 
were  concealed  all  the  spells  of  love  that  deprive  the 
most  cautious  and  sensible  men  of  their  prudence. 
Jupiter,  then,  when  he  saw  Juno  allowed  himself  to  be 
vanquished  by  the  power  of  those  spells,  and  in  urg- 
ing his  suit  upon  her  he  could  find  no  better  means  of 
inducing  her  to  listen  than  by  telling  her  of  his  gal- 
lant adventures,  assuring  her  that  never — either  by 
Daniie,  or  Leda,  or  Europa,  or  any  other  of  the 
princesses  and  nymphs  Avhom  he  had  captivated — had 
he  been  so  powerfully  affected^  if  I  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, as  on  the  present  occasion.  Nothing,  in 
fact,  could  flatter  Juno  more  greatly  than  that  Jupi- 
ter should  tell  her  that  she  had  more  power  than  any 
of  her  rivals  to  affect  him. 

Something  of  this,  for  the  human  heart  is  always 
the  same,  took  place  in  the  heart  of  Dofia  Luz,  with- 
out any  need  for  Don  Jaime  to  imitate  the  discredita- 
ble example  of  the  son  of  Saturn  by  relating  his  past 
conquests. 

Dofia  Luz  knew  that  Don  Jaime  had  been  adored  in 
Madrid,  and  seeing  him  now  so  enamored,  so  devoted, 
so  humble,  her  heart  swelled  with  pride  and  joy  at  the 
conviction  that  she  was  loved  a  thousand  times  more 
dearly  than  any  of  her  former  rivals  had  been.     In 


THE  WEDDING.  221 

order  to  complete  her  satisfaction,  Dofia  Luz  made, 
besides,  a  critical  distinction  in  the  matter,  a  distinc- 
tion which  women  of  her  class  and  character  seldom 
fail  to  make.  The  love  of  Don  Jaime  for  other 
women  had  been  founded  on  some  ephemeral  grace  or 
charm  of  person  or  manner,  the  love  he  bore  her  was 
founded  on  the  enduring  qualities  of  the  mind  and 
heart ;  his  love  for  other  women  had  sprung  from  ca- 
price, from  vanity,  from  youthful  excitement,  his  love 
for  her  had  its  source  in  the  purest  and  deepest  feel- 
ings of  the  soul,  and  with  its  beneficent  current  would 
wash  from  his  heart  all  trace  and  stain  of  every  past 
error,  leaving  it  bright  as  burnished  gold.  All  this 
purification  and  sanctification  was  the  little  less  than 
miraculous  and  superhuman  work  of  the  love  of  Dofia 
Luz  and  the  purifying  fire  of  her  eyes. 

There  is  scarcely  any  woman — ^no  matter  how  can- 
did she  may  be — who  will  dare  to  confess  what  is  here 
stated  to  be  applicable  in  her  own  case,  but  most 
women,  when  they  find  themselves  in  the  position  of 
Dofia  Luz,  reason  and  feel  in  this  way  and  are  firmly 
convinced  that  they  are  in  the  right,  although  through 
fear  of  the  ridicule  of  the  incredulous  or  the  malevo- 
lent they  may  not  choose  to  confess  it. 

Dofia  Luz  was  intoxicated  with  happiness.  Her 
Don  Jaime  seemed  to  her  a  god,  but  a  god  who  adored 
her  and  who  would  always  be  her  slave. 

From  this  it  resulted  that  Dofia  Luz  annihilated 


222  DOSfA  LUZ. 

her  own  will,  merging  it,  as  it  were,  in  the  will  of  Don 
Jaime,  and  yielding  her  own  wishes  to  his  in  every- 
thing. 

Dofia  Luz  gave  up  her  wish  to  remain  in  Villafria 
and  consented  to  accompany  her  husband  to  Madrid. 

Flattered,  and  at  the  same  time  shamed,  by  the 
rich  gifts  he  had  bestowed  upon  her,  she  wished  in  her 
turn  to  bestow  a  gift  upon  him,  and  presented  him 
with  30,000  reals  which  she  had  economized  from  her 
income,  notwithstanding  the  large  sums  she  expended 
in  alms  and  in  other  works  of  charity.  Of  these 
30,000  reals  which  Don  Jaime,  notwithstanding  his 
reluctance,  was  at  last  obliged  to  accept  in  order  not 
to  offend  her,  Dofia  Luz  desired  that  a  part  should  be 
spent  in  furnishing  the  house,  and  that  with  the  re- 
mainder Don  Jaime  should  obtain  her  title  of  mar- 
chioness. What  she  had  never  desired  while  she  was 
unmarried  she  desired  now  so  that  her  husband  might 
be  a  marquis,  as  if  in  thus  stamping  him,  as  it  were, 
with  her  own  title  and  seal  she  made  him  more  com- 
pletely her  own. 

Don  Jaime,  who  up  to  the  time  of  his  marriage 
had  lived  modestly  in  Madrid,  did  not  wish  at  first  to 
take  his  wife  to  a  hotel  or  subject  her  to  discomfort, 
and  it  was  therefore  agreed  between  himself  and 
Doiia  Luz  that  he  should  go  alone  to  Madrid — 
whither,  besides,  his  duties  in  the  Congress  urgently 
called  him — furnish  a  house  there  modestly,  as  Dofia 


THE  WEDDING.  223 

Luz  prudently  advised,  and  as  soon  as  it  should  be 
ready  for  her  reception  return  for  her  to  Villafria. 

This  was  the  plan  of  Dofla  Luz  rather  than  of 
Don  Jaime.  It  grieved  her  to  be  separated  from  her 
husband  even  for  so  short  a  time,  but  there  was  a 
singular  charm  for  her  in  the  thought  that  Don 
Jaime  himself  should  prepare,  according  to  his  own 
taste,  the  house  in  which  he  was  to  receive  her,  and 
where  she  proposed  to  live  simply,  participating  rarely 
in  the  gayeties  or  amusements  of  the  capital,  in  order 
that  she  might  not  be  burdensome  to  her  husband. 
And  she  was  no  less  charmed  by  the  thought — not  on 
her  own  account,  for  on  this  point  she  had  no  vanity, 
but  on  Don  Jaime's — that  when  she  arrived  in  Madrid 
her  title  should  be  already  obtained,  and  that  she 
should  have  the  right  to  call  herself  marchioness. 

In  brief,  twelve  days  after  their  marriage — days 
during  which  Dofla  Luz,  oblivious  to  all  her  sur- 
roundings, had  had  eyes  and  ears  only  for  Don 
Jaime — the  latter  showing  plainly  his  own  emotion 
while  he  sought  to  soothe  the  grief  of  his  bride, 
who  lavished  caresses  upon  him,  set  out  for  Madrid, 
leaving  her  alone  in  the  ancient  and  noble  mansion 
whither,  as  I  have  said,  she  had  caused  to  be  removed 
all  the  furniture,  ornaments,  and  books  that  adorned 
the  apartment  she  had  occupied  in  Don  Acisclo's 
house  previous  to  her  marriage. 


16 


224  D05Ja  LUZ. 

XVIII. 

A   GLORIOUS  TRANSLATIOIf. 

The  departure  of  Don  Jaime,  who  was  to  be  ab- 
sent for  a  month,  left  Dofia  Luz  in  a  somewhat  mel- 
ancholy frame  of  mind,  though  her  melancholy  had 
in  it  an  admixture  of  sweetness,  but  also  with  greater 
freedom  and  tranquillity  of  spirit  to  enjoy  the  society 
of  her  friends  in  the  intervals  during  which  she  was 
not  occupied  in  thinking  over  her  absent  lord. 

Doila  Luz  had  been  living  in  a  state  of  ecstasy,  as 
it  were,  and  she  had  now  come  back  to  real  life,  and 
while  her  mind  was  filled  with  the  thought  of  her 
own  happiness,  which  was  an  ever-present  joy,  she 
also  felt  the  need,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  those 
who  think  themselves  happy,  of  communicating  her 
happiness  to  others,  and  the  desire  to  be  amiable 
toward  every  one,  as  if  she  wished  to  purchase  in  this 
way  forgiveness  for  the  bliss  she  enjoyed — a  bliss  so 
rare  on  this  earth  that  it  always  seems  as  if  it  were 
enjoyed  at  another's  cost. 

The  reunions  which  had  taken  place  at  Don 
Acisclo's,  then,  were  resumed,  taking  place  now  in 
the  house  of  Dofia  Luz. 

The  same  persons  as  before — that  is  to  say,  Don 
Acisclo,  Don  Anselmo,  Don  Miguel,  Pepe  Giieto  and 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  225 

his  wife,  and  Father  Enrique — were  present  every 
evening. 

The  same  animation  as  had  prevailed  in  them 
before  again  characterized  their  meetings.  Don  An- 
selmo,  with  the  same  warmth  as  before,  again  ex- 
pounded his  positivist  doctrines,  and  Father  Enrique, 
yielding  to  the  entreaties  of  Dofia  Luz  and  her  friend, 
again  combated  them  with  his  accustomed  sweetness, 
gentleness,  and  deliberation. 

Father  Enrique  was  neither  paler  nor  more  ema- 
ciated nor  more  dejected  than  he  had  been  previous 
to  the  marriage.  No  change  was  perceptible  in  his 
voice,  there  was  no  indication  of  suffering  or  of  self- 
repression  in  his  gestures  or  his  looks.  Dofia  Luz 
would  steal  furtive  and  uneasy  glances  at  the  priest, 
scanning  his  countenance  closely  when  she  could  do 
so  unobserved,  but  as  she  saw  there  no  trace  of  the 
hidden  passion  which  she  had  sometimes  attributed 
to  him  in  her  thoughts,  she  cast  all  suspicion  from 
her  mind,  with  a  sense  of  satisfaction  and  relief, 
though  not,  it  must  be  confessed,  without  a  secret 
pang  of  wounded  vanity.  Dofia  Luz  sought,  as  it 
were,  to  deafen  the  ears  of  her  soul,  which  at  times, 
however,  could  hear  a  low  and  piercing  voice  upbraid- 
ing her,  saying : 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  have  been  so  vain  as 
to  imagine  that  this  holy  servant  of  the  Lord  loved 
you  ?    Is  it  not  absurd  that  your  vanity  should  have 


226  DOSfA  LUZ. 

caused  you  to  torment  yourself,  estimating  the  extent 
of  the  unconscious  evil  which  you  imagined  you  had 
wrought  ?  Do  you  not  fear  that  the  devil  will  fling 
his  jeers  at  you,  that  God  himself,  if  God  be  capable 
of  such  a  feeling,  will  mock  you  when  they  look  into 
the  depths  of  your  consciousness  and  see  how  the 
foolish  fancy  flattered  while  it  terrified  you  that 
love  for  you  and  jealousy  of  a  favored  rival  could 
cause  the  death  of  this  poor  friar  ?  See  how  unmoved 
he  is ;  undeceive  yourself,  his  thoughts  are  occupied 
with  his  devotions,  with  his  books,  with  his  studies, 
with  his  writings,  and  it  matters  nothing  to  him 
whether  you  are  married  or  not.  A  fine  castle  in  the 
air  was  this  which  your  pride  constructed !  An  ab- 
surd legend  of  romantic  and  hopeless  love  was  this 
which  your  imagination  created  ! " 

When  Dofia  Luz  listened  to  this  malicious  voice, 
which  was  doubtless  the  voice  of  the  evil  one,  she 
feared  that  she  regretted  that  the  love  and  the  jeal- 
ousy and  the  despair  of  Father  Enrique  had  been 
only  imaginary. 

Fortunately,  Dofla  Luz  was  not  only  a  good  woman 
but  she  had  also  a  strong  and  determined  will,  and 
she  quickly  silenced  this  voice  and  calmed  the  agita- 
tion and  the  tumult  which  it  had  excited  in  her 
breast. 

The  most  rational  and  wisest  course  to  pursue  was 
to   take   it    for  granted  that  the  priest  had  never 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  227 

thought  of  her  otherwise  than  as  a  dear  and  esteemed 
friend,  and  that  in  her  heart  she  ought  to  rejoice  at 
this,  and  that  she  did  rejoice  at  it. 

Dofia  Luz  then  resolved  that  in  her  intercourse 
with  the  priest  there  should  be  no  apparent  change. 
Any  such  change  would  seem,  she  thought,  like  a  con- 
fession that  there  had  been  between  them  formerly 
some  illicit  feeling,  a  feeling  which  she  had  extirpated 
from  her  soul  and  which,  if  it  still  existed  in  the 
priest's  soul,  was  yet  more  reprehensible  than  it  had 
been  in  hers. 

This  thought  exercised  so  powerful  an  influence 
over  Dofia  Luz  that  she  now  gave  greater  proofs  than 
ever  of  her  affection  and  predilection  for  Father  En- 
rique. She  took  his  hand  in  hers;  she  glanced  at 
hira  with  ineffable  tenderness ;  she  smiled  at  him  en- 
raptured; she  applauded  all  his  words  as  little  less 
than  divine ;  and  she  sought  opportunities  of  convers- 
ing with  him,  and  manifested  plainly  the  delight  she 
took  in  his  conversation. 

The  priest  had  the  rare  and  fatal  gift  of  reading 
the  human  heart,  and  he  read  that  of  Dofia  Luz,  and, 
warned  by  his  former  error,  knew  well  how  little 
value  was  to  be  attached  to  all  these  demonstrations 
of  tenderness.  But  the  sweetness  of  these  demonstra- 
tions, no  less  than  the  thought  of  his  own  uncon- 
querable and  unrequited  passion,  rent  his  soul  with 
anguish. 


228  DONA  LUZ. 

Who  shall  say  whether  this  proceeded  from  pride 
or  from  Christian  virtue,  or  from  both  together,  seeing 
that  in  the  human  soul  good  and  evil  instincts  are  at 
times  combined  and  good  and  evil  spirits  struggle  for 
the  mastery  impelled  by  opposite  motives,  yet  both 
conspiring  to  the  same  end  ?  What  is  certain  is  that 
by  no  complaint,  no  sigh,  no  glance,  no  word,  however 
closely  they  might  be  analyzed,  did  Father  Enrique 
reveal,  or  give  the  slightest  cause  to  Dofia  Luz  in  her 
eager  questioning  to  suspect  the  tempest  that  raged 
unseen  in  his  soul. 

To  give  up  attending  their  reunions,  as  he  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  doing,  to  leave  the  town,  whether 
to  return  to  the  Philippine  Islands  or  to  go  elsewhere, 
the  moment  Dofia  Luz  was  married,  seemed  to  the 
priest  miserable  weakness  and  equivalent  to  a  public 
avowal  of  his  criminal  passion.  He  fancied  that  by 
withdrawing  from  her  society  or  leaving  Villafria  he 
should  give  cause  for  gossip,  arousing  a  suspicion  that 
perhaps  no  one  had  hitherto  entertained.  The  priest 
was  ashamed  that  any  one,  while  he  lived,  should 
divine  his  profane  love,  but  of  no  one  was  he  more 
ashamed  than  of  Dofia  Luz. 

"  Let  me  die,  0  my  God,  let  me  die,"  he  ex- 
claimed, "  before  she  knows  that  I  have  loved  her, 
that  I  love  her  still ! " 

To  prevent  her  suspecting  this  the  priest  now  en- 
tered on  a  terrible  struggle  with  himself.     To  con- 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  229 

quer  in  this  struggle  needed  greater  heroism  than 
that  of  the  Spartan  boy  who,  without  uttering  a 
groan,  allowed  his  flesh  to  be  torn  by  the  claws  of  the 
wild  animal.  Father  Enrique  resolved  within  himself 
to  show  neither  disappointment  nor  envy  nor  jeal- 
ousy nor  love,  but  to  continue  to  show  Dofia  Luz  the 
same  sincere  and  constant  friendship  as  he  had  al- 
ways shown  her.  And  he  succeeded  so  well  that 
Dofia  Luz  finally  cast  from  her  mind  all  suspicion 
that  the  priest  had  ever  loved  her.  She  deemed  him 
dead  to  every  affection  which  had  its  origin  in  the 
senses ;  she  believed  him  inaccessible  to  every  feeling 
that  does  not  come  to  the  soul  directly  from  God. 
And  in  this  way  without  offense  to  her  vanity  she 
arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  Father  Enrique  had 
never  loved  her. 

Dofla  Luz  felt,  too,  that  she  had  offended  the 
priest  in  her  thoughts  by  the  supposition  that  he 
loved  her.  And  therefore,  by  way  of  satisfaction  for 
this  offense,  as  well  as  because  the  admiration  with 
which  his  superiority  to  human  weakness  inspired 
her,  and  her  conviction — a  conviction  that  grew 
stronger  every  day — that  do  what  she  would  there  was 
not  the  slightest  danger  of  Father  Enrique's  falling 
in  love  with  her,  she  yielded  to  her  inclinations  and 
lavished  attentions  upon  him,  giving  him  the  most 
flattering  proofs  of  her  friendship. 

The  spirit  is  strong  and  can  endure  all  things,  but 


230  DoSfA  Luz. 

the  flesh  is  weak,  and  the  spirit  which,  imprisoned  in 
the  flesh,  attempts  a  task  beyond  the  power  of  hu- 
manity, superior  to  the  strength  of  the  body,  ends 
by  destroying  the  body. 

In  his  youthful  days,  when  he  was  strong  and  vig- 
orous, the  priest  had  performed  notable  works  of  pen- 
ance and  had  treated  his  poor  body  with  harshness, 
and  even  cruelty ;  later,  fatigued  and  worn  out  by  his 
labors,  he  had  yielded  to  the  counsels  and  commands 
of  his  physicians  and  confessors  and  had  cared  for  his 
health  and  ceased  to  abuse  his  strength.  The  idea 
that  the  excesses  of  an  ascetic  life  were  a  species  of 
slow  and  painful  suicide,  and  that  to  deform  and  de- 
stroy in  the  body  the  most  beautiful  work  of  the 
Almighty,  the  form  and  the  being  in  which  the  soul 
clothes  itself  while  on  the  earth,  and  which  the  Holy 
Scriptures  themselves  call  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  presented  itself  to  his  mind  and  induced  him 
to  desist  from  the  mortifications  of  the  flesh. 

From  this  time  forward  the  priest  cared  for  his 
body  as  a  slave  cares  for  some  precious  object,  some 
delicate  machine  confided  to  him  by  his  master  in 
order  that  by  its  use  he  may  make  the  estate  prosper. 
Whatever  there  might  be  of  pride  in  this  way  of 
thinking  the  priest  got  rid  of  by  conceding  in  his 
thoughts  that  God  had  no  need  of  him,  as  himself, 
that  his  life  was  of  no  more  value  than  the  life  of  any 
other  man  whatsoever,  but  that  God  had  created  this 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  231 

life  for  some  special  purpose,  and  not  in  order  that  he 
might  destroy  it,  since  to  destroy  it  would  be  to  in- 
fringe a  divine  law,  to  disturb  or  desire  to  disturb  the 
universal  harmony  and  withdraw  by  violence  a  living 
force  from  the  point  of  action  marked  out  for  it  by 
nature. 

Yielding  to  all  these  considerations,  Father  En- 
rique cared  for  his  health,  observing  a  prudent  and 
regular  mode  of  life. 

For  a  long  time  past  he  had  ceased  to  torture  his 
body  by  fasting,  by  wearing  a  haircloth  shirt,  or  by  pro- 
longed vigils,  but  in  this  mysterious  combat  in  which 
he  had  engaged  in  the  silence  and  dissimulation  of  his 
soul,  in  this  apparent  impassibility  he  had  assumed,  in 
this  tyrannical  dominion  which  his  tortured  spirit 
wished  to  impose  and  did  impose  on  the  body,  betray- 
ing his  anguish  neither  by  groans  nor  tears,  nor  even 
by  a  contraction  of  the  muscles  of  his  countenance, 
the  priest  contrived — perhaps  without  intending  it — 
the  most  cruel  of  martyrdoms,  a  veritable  vengeance, 
a  severe  punishment  for  Jiis  fault,  if  fault  there  Avere. 

The  athlete  in  the  midst  of  the  most  violent  exer- 
cises, the  warrior  while  engaged  in  the  fiercest  com- 
bat, sustained  by  their  ardor  and  by  nervous  excite- 
ment, feel  neither  weariness  nor  exhaustion.  Exhaus- 
tion does  not  come  until  after  the  triumph.  The  sol- 
dier who  fought  at  Marathon  did  not  fall  dead  until 
he  had  given  the  Athenians  the  news  of  the  victory. 


232  DO^A  LUZ. 

In  the  same  way  Father  Enrique  played  his  part  to 
perfection  while  he  was  in  the  presence  of  Dofla  Luz, 
or  of  any  other  person.  But  in  the  seclusion  of  his 
own  room,  as  if  the  springs  which  held  his  nerves  in 
constant  tension  were  then  loosened,  he  would  fall 
into  a  state  of  utter  prostration,  half-stifled  sighs 
would  break  from  his  oppressed  heart,  vertigo  would 
seize  him,  his  sight  would  grow  clouded,  his  fingers 
grow  numb,  or  they  would  turn  suddenly  cold  or  be 
seized  by  cramps  ;  images  and  ideas  would  crowd  con- 
fusedly to  his  mind ;  his  head  would  ache,  and  he 
would  even  hesitate  and  stammer  in  his  speech  when 
addressing  Ramon,  his  servant. 

Father  Enrique  suffered  repeated  attacks  of  this 
kind,  always  in  the  solitude  of  his  own  room.  The 
priest  had  some  knowledge  of  medicine  and  treated 
himself  on  these  occasions,  directing  his  servant  to 
apply  mustard  plasters  or  to  use  powerful  friction. 
At  other  times  he  would  inhale  the  pungent  odor  of  a 
certain  herb  which  had  the  property  of  provoking  a 
slight  bleeding  of  the  nose,  or  he  would  wrap  his  head 
in  a  cloth  wet  with  cold  water. 

On  recovering  from  one  of  these  attacks  he  never 
failed  to  say  to  Ramon  : 

"  This  is  of  no  consequence,  say  nothing  about  it 
to  any  one." 

And  the  servant  would  answer,  "  Very  well,  mas- 
ter." 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  233 

This  being  the  condition  of  affairs,  on  the  morning 
of  the  tenth  day  after  the  departure  of  Don  Jaime, 
Father  Enrique  suffered  a  more  serious  attack  than 
any  of  the  previous  ones. 

The  priest,  as  Ramon  afterward  related,  had  spent 
the  night  in  a  state  of  extreme  agitation.  The  serv- 
ant, hearing  him  pacing  rapidly  up  and  down  the  floor, 
had  gone  to  his  master's  room  on  tiptoe,  fearing  to 
annoy  him  by  seeming  to  spy  upon  his  actions,  and 
had  seen  him  writing.  Later  on  he  had  again  heard 
him  walking  up  and  down  the  room.  The  priest  at 
last  fell  into  a  sleep,  but  a  sleep  which  alarmed  his 
faithful  servant — a  troubled  sleep  accompanied  by  a 
hoarse  and  stertorous  breathing.  His  features  were 
distorted,  he  had  dark  circles  under  his  eyes,  and  he 
was  even  paler  than  usual.  Notwithstanding  these 
alarming  symptoms,  such  was  the  respect  in  which 
Ramon  held  his  master's  orders  that  he  did  not  dare 
either  to  call  the  physician,  or  to  awaken  the  priest. 

The  latter  awoke  of  his  own  accord,  but  his 
awakening  was  terrible  to  behold.  The  muscles  of 
his  countenance  were  immovable,  his  tongue  was  para- 
lyzed and  unable  to  utter  a  sound,  his  gaze  wandered, 
his  extremities  were  cold  and  rigid  as  marble. 

Ramon,  filled  with  consternation  and  grief,  called 
Don  Acisclo  to  his  nephew's  assistance,  and  then  ran 
for  Don  Anselmo. 

Don  Anselmo  came  at  once,  and  as  soon  as  he  had 


234  doiJa  luz. 

looked  at  the  sick  man  it  was  evident  from  the  expres- 
sion of  his  countenance  that  he  considered  his  condi- 
tion almost  hopeless. 

"  Speak  frankly,  Don  Anselmo,"  said  Don  Acisclo. 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  my  nephew  ?  " 

"  His  condition  is  very  serious,"  answered  the  doc- 
tor gravely. 

"  Can  it  be  possible !  "  exclaimed  Don  Acisclo. 
"  Who  could  have  anticipated  this  when  only  yester- 
day he  was  perfectly  well  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  anticipate  it  because  you  did  not 
know  the  secret  malady  that  was  killing  him.  Your 
nephew  is  a  patient  man,  and  accustomed  to  conceal 
his  ills.  Would  to  heaven  he  had  been  less  so,  and  we 
might  have  come  to  his  assistance  in  time ! " 

"  What !  do  you  mean  to  say  that  it  is  too  late  to 
save  him  ?  " 

"  Don  Acisclo,  you  love  your  nephew  with  your 
whole  heart,  but  you  are  courageous  and  strong 
minded.  Why  try  to  deceive  you  ?  It  is  better  that 
you  should  know  the  real  state  of  the  case.  Father 
Enrique  is  in  the  utmost  danger." 

«  What  is  his  malady  ?  " 

"  A  malady  much  rarer,  and  consequently  much 
more  dangerous,  in  the  frail  and  delicate  than  in  the 
strong  and  robust.  Prolonged  intellectual  labor,  in- 
tense grief,  protracted  vigils,  suppressed  mental  ex- 
citement, repressed  emotion,  working  mysteriously  in 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  235 

our  organism,  are,  it  may  be,  the  causes  of  these  sudden 
attacks ;  the  heart  swells,  acquires  a  morbid  and  irreg- 
ular force,  and  suddenly  suffuses  the  brain  with  blood." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  all  this  ?  " 
.  "  I  mean  that  your  nephew  has  had  a  stroke  of 
apoplexy." 

Don  Acisclo,  who  loved  his  nephew,  and  consid- 
ered him  as,  next  to  himself,  the  chief  glory  of  his 
family,  was  filled  with  deep  and  sincere  grief  at  this 
intelligence,  and  tried  by  his  entreaties  and  lamenta- 
tions to  stimulate  the  doctor's  zeal. 

The  latter  had  no  need  of  any  such  stimulus  how- 
ever He  wished  to  restore  the  priest  to  health,  but 
he  knew  that  his  condition  was  desperate,  that  only  a 
miracle  could  save  his  life,  and  he  had  no  belief  in 
miracles.  Meantime  he  did  all  in  his  power,  humanly 
speaking,  to  save  him.  He  did  not  wish  to  bleed  the 
sick  man,  for  he  thought  him  too  weak,  but  he  gave 
him  the  most  powerful  of  the  remedies  usual  in  such 
cases. 

In  order  to  prevent  or,  if  it  already  existed,  to 
subdue  cerebral  inflammation  he  applied  a  blister  to 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  made  use  of  counter-irri- 
tants to  draw  the  blood  from  the  brain  to  the  extremi- 
ties.    All  was  in  vain,  however. 

The  news  of  the  priest's  illness  spread  rapidly 
throughout  the  town,  and  soon  reached  the  ears  of 
Dofla  Luz,  who  went  at  once  to  see  him. 


236  l>oSfA  LUZ. 

Who  can  say  what  strange  and  sorrowful  thoughts 
assailed  the  mind  of  Dofia  Luz  when  she  entered  the 
room  in  which  the  priest  lay  ill — the  room  which  she 
herself  had  occupied  for  more  than  twelve  years. 

Silently  and  gravely  she  approached  the  bedside. 
There  before  her,  his  head  supported  by  pillows,  the 
priest  lay  apparently  unconscious — his  eyes  dull  and 
expressionless,  his  eyelids  half  closed,  his  lips  mute. 
Perhaps  sensation  had  not  yet  left  him,  perhaps  he 
saw  and  understood  what  was  taking  place  around 
him,  but  from  want  of  muscular  power  he  had  no 
means  of  making  known  his  impressions. 

Doila  Luz  gazed  long  at  the  priest  without  utter- 
ing a  word.  At  last  she  burst  into  bitter  weeping. 
Presently  she  sat  down  in  a  chair  in  the  darkest  cor- 
ner of  the  room  and  let  her  tears  flow  in  silence,  not 
wishing  to  attract  attention  to  her  presence  in  the 
room. 

In  the  hurry  and  excitement  of  the  occasion  Dofia 
Luz  and  the  sick  man  were  left  alone  together  for  a 
few  moments. 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  approached  the  bedside, 
and,  spell-bound  as  it  were,  gazed  long  and  fixedly  at 
the  priest,  as  the  traveler  standing  on  the  edge  of  a 
precipice  looks  with  fascinated  gaze  into  the  dark  and 
mysterious  depths  of  the  abyss  below. 

Her  tears  then  flowed  more  abundantly  than  be- 
fore.    She  was  more  strongly  impressed  than  she  had 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  237 

ever  been  before  with  the  resemblance  between  the 
man  before  her  and  the  dead  Christ  of  her  picture ; 
she  either  imagined  or  it  was  in  reality  the  case 
that  the  priest,  motionless  as  he  was,  could  yet  feel 
and  understand  what  was  taking  place  around  him, 
and  that  he  looked  at  her,  making  an  effort,  even  now, 
to  command  the  inert  nerves  and  muscles  which  no 
longer  obeyed  his  will.  She  fancied  that  the  glance 
of  the  sick  man  was  by  turns  supplicating,  tender, 
and  melancholy.  Impelled  irresistibly,  moved  to  the 
depths  of  her  soul,  almost  unconscious  of  her  act, 
without  reflecting,  without  hesitating,  as  an  irre- 
sponsible force  acts  without  reflecting  or  hesitating, 
Dofia  Luz  gently  bent  her  face  toward  that  of  the 
priest  and  pressed  her  lips  on  his  emaciated  brow  and 
then  on  his  half-closed  eyelids  and  then  on  his  lips, 
already  rigid,  fervently,  piously,  as  one  might  kiss  the 
relics  of  a  saint. 

Dofla  Luz  could  no  longer  support  her  anguish. 
She  uttered  a  sharp  cry  and  fell  senseless  on  the  floor. 
The  priest  remained  motionless  as  before. 

Don  Anselmo,  Don  Acisclo,  and  Ramon  shortly 
afterward  entered  the  room. 

"  How  wrong,"  said  Don  Anselmo,  "  to  have  left 
this  lady  here  alone !  She  is  very  excitable ;  it  is 
not  fit  that  she  should  be  here.  Besides,  the  patient 
needs  quiet." 

Dofla  Luz  soon  came  to  herself,  and,  in  accordance 


238  I>0?fA  LUZ. 

with  the  wish  expressed  in  Don  Anselmo's  last  words, 
which  she  had  heard  and  understood,  left  the  room. 

Few,  indeed,  are  those  who  are  long  remembered 
after  their  death.  Time  consoles  the  grief  their  loss 
has  occasioned ;  the  body  mingles  with  the  earth,  ob- 
livion at  last  swallows  up  every  memory.  But  for 
every  one — or  almost  every  one — there  comes,  imme- 
diately after  death,  a  period  during  which  he  is  re- 
garded by  the  world  with  indulgence,  affection,  and 
esteem.  Those  who  thought  him  too  insignificant 
to  notice  while  living  give  him  a  place  in  their 
thoughts  now  that  he  is  dead,  for  in  dying  he  has 
performed  the  act  most  worthy  of  commemoration  of 
his  life — he  has  realized  Ms  essence,  as  the  philoso- 
phers in  fashion  express  it;  those  who  envied  him 
forget  their  envy,  those  who  hated  him  their  hatred  ; 
those  who  were  tired  of  seeing  him  are  secretly  re- 
joiced that  they  shall  see  him  no  more,  and  to  make 
amends  to  him  for  this  feeling,  and  so  that  his  ghost 
may  not  come  at  night  to  haunt  them,  they  sound  his 
praises  without  ceasing.  All  his  faults  disappear  for 
a  time  as  if  the  grave  had  swallowed  them  up,  and 
only  his  virtues  are  remembered ;  in  short,  in  dying, 
he  has  made  his  peace  with  almost  all  mankind,  for 
the  very  reason  that  he  has  died  and  left  something  to 
inherit,  if  not  country-seats  or  palaces,  a  place  in  the 
sunshine  to  beg. 

Be  the  reason  what  it  might,  after  the  death  of  the 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  239 

priest,  whose  existence — with  the  exception  of  Don 
Acisclo  and  his  friends — every  one  in  Villafria  had  by 
this  time  almost  forgotten,  there  was  a  general  revival 
in  the  town  of  affection  and  enthusiasm  for  him. 
They  all  united  in  admiring  and  praising  him  even 
more  ardently  than  they  had  done  on  the  day  of  his 
arrival.  For  the  very  reason  that  they  had  seen  so 
little  of  him  they  could  give  free  rein  to  their  imagi- 
nation. They  extolled  his  virtues.  They  brought  to 
light  many  works  of  mercy  which  he  had  performed. 
They  adorned  the  simple  story  of  his  death  with  a 
thousand  details  which  bordered  on  the  marvelous. 
There  were  pious  women  who  averred  that  the  priest 
himself  had  foretold  with  exactness  the  day  and  hour 
of  his  glorious  passage  to  a  better  life,  and  it  was  the 
conviction  of  not  a  few  that  he  had  died  in  the  odor 
of  sanctity,  and  that  Don  Acisclo  should  endeavor  to 
have  him  canonized,  sending  a  statement  of  the  facts, 
duly  substantiated,  to  Rome,  for  that  purpose. 

Some  incredulous  persons  of  the  place  would  have 
it  thought  that  all  these  eulogies  had  for  their  pur- 
pose to  flatter  Don  Acisclo,  who  mourned  for  his 
nephew  sincerely,  and  sounded  his  praises  in  every 
possible  key. 

At  all  events,  credulous  and  incredulous,  whether 
for  the  purpose  of  paying  court  to  Don  Acisclo  or 
because  such  was  really  their  opinion,  the  Villafrians 
agreed  in  saying  that  the  deceased  had  been  an  esti- 

16 


240  D05Ja  luz. 

mable  man,  full  of  wisdom  and  goodness,  and  even  of 
holiness,  each  one  giving  his  own  interpretation  to  the 
word  holiness. 

But  no  one  mourned  him  more  tenderly  or  more 
sincerely  than  the  one  who  had,  or  thought  she  had 
reason  to  believe  that  he  had  not  been  altogether 
holy.  Dofla  Luz,  during  the  days  immediately  fol- 
lowing Father  Enrique's  death,  was  inconsolable. 

Strange  thoughts  came  to  her  mind  to  augment 
her  suffering.  On  the  one  hand  a  certain  sentiment 
of  pride  when  she  again  returned  to  the  belief  that 
she  had  inspired  him  with  a  fatal  passion,  and  the 
horror  with  which  this  pride  filled  her  ;  on  the  other, 
the  confused  suspicion,  accompanied  by  a  vague  re- 
morse, that  by  an  abominable,  although  involuntary 
impulse,  she  had  awakened  this  passion  in  a  soul 
before  tranquil  and  happy  ;  and,  finally,  the  doubt 
whether  all  this  were  not  the  creation  of  her  own 
vanity.  Might  it  not  be  all  only  a  romantic  fancy  of 
her  own  ?  What  had  the  priest  ever  said  to  her  that 
she  should  suppose  him  in  love  with  her?  She  it 
was  who  was  romantic  and  sentimental  in  having  in- 
sanely kissed  him  in  his  last  hour. 

"  What  if  it  be  I  who  have  been  wicked,  senseless, 
mad  ? "  she  said  to  herself.  "  What  if  it  be  I  who 
loved  him  while  he  regarded  me  only  with  the  inno- 
cent and  tranquil  affection  of  a  father  ?  " 

At  this  thought  Doila  Luz  was  filled  Avith  shame. 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  241 

She  trembled  like  a  leaf,  bitterly  reproaching  herself 
for  her  folly  and  regarding  herself  as  even  false  to  her 
wifely  vows. 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  the 
mind  of  Dofla  Luz  Don  Acisclo  distributed  among 
the  members  of  the  family  the  few  and  unimportant 
possessions  of  the  priest — possessions  which  were  pre- 
cious rather  for  the  memories  attached  to  them  than 
for  their  intrinsic  value. 

In  making  this  distribution  Don  Acisclo  set  apart 
for  Dofla  Luz  the  few  books  owned  by  Father  En- 
rique. 

Don  Acisclo  was  not  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  the 
priest  was  writing  a  book,  and  he  even  thought  of 
having  it  printed  himself,  although  it  had  been  left 
unfinished. 

He  accordingly  made  a  search  for  the  manuscript, 
which  he  found,  and,  reflecting  that  the  only  two  per- 
sons in  the  town  capable  of  understanding  Avhat  he 
called  gilherish  were  Don  Anselmo  and  Dofla  Luz, 
and  that  Don  Anselmo,  being  an  infidel,  would  appre- 
ciate this  gibberish  less  than  Dofla  Luz,  who  was  a 
believer,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  take  the  manuscript  to 
Dofla  Luz,  without  even  opening  it,  for  all  that  was 
writing,  unless  it  might  be  an  account,  in  which  the 
balance  was  in  his  favor,  puzzled  Don  Acisclo. 

Dofla  Luz  received  the  manuscript  with  a  feeling 
of  veneration,  and  as  soon  as  Don  Acisclo  had  retired 


242  DONA  LUZ. 

opened  it  with  anxious  curiosity  and  began  to  read  it. 
In  her  impatience  she  turned  over  its  pages  rapidly 
and  eagerly,  taking  in  the  meaning  at  a  glance,  in 
order  to  gain  a  general  idea  of  its  contents,  leaving  a 
more  careful  perusal  for  a  future  time. 

After  turning  over  a  few  pages  she  came  across  the 
loose  sheets  of  manuscript.  Her  gaze  was  fascinated 
by  them.  Her  heart  told  her  that  they  contained 
matter  of  deep  interest. 

She  read  them  through  slowly,  with  frequent  in- 
terruptions, for  the  tears  blinded  her  eyes  and  pre- 
vented her  seeing  the  letters  clearly. 

At  each  of  these  enforced  interruptions  Dofia  Luz 
would  exclaim  in  a  low  voice,  as  if  she  feared  to  be 
overheard,  her  words  broken  by  sighs  : 

"  It  was  true  !  It  was  true !  He  loved  me,  my 
God  !     How  dearly  he  loved  me  ! " 

In  addition  to  what  we  already  know.  Father  En- 
rique had  written,  on  the  day  preceding  his  death,  the 
following  words,  which  Dofia  Luz  now  read  : 

"  These  pages,  if  I  do  not  destroy  them,  will  inevi- 
tably fall  after  my  death  into  her  beautiful  hands.  I 
shall  not  then  be  ashamed  of  her  knowing  that  I 
loved  her.  Forgive  me  this  new  crime,  0  my  God ! 
I  desire  that  she  should  know  it.  How  could  this 
knowledge  disturb  the  happiness  and  peace  of  her 
noble  life?  She  has  loved  me,  she  loves  me  as  an 
angel  loves  a  saint,  while  I  have  loved  her  as  a  man 


A  GLORIOUS  TRANSLATION.  243 

loves  a  woman.  I  should  be  a  hypocrite  if  I  did  not 
reveal  to  her  the  fact  that  I  am  unworthy  of  her 
angelic  love — that  I  loved  her  with  a  sinful  love.  It 
is  necessary  for  my  eternal  repose  that  she  should 
pardon  me  for  having  converted  balm  into  poison  and 
her  innocent  affection  into  a  temptation ;  for  having 
fed  with  the  pure  light  of  her  eyes  this  hell-fire  that 
devours  me  and  stains  the  purity  of  her  image  which 
I  bear  engraven  on  my  soul.  In  despite  of  thee,  0 
my  God  !  in  despite  of  thee  and  in  opposition  to  thee, 
I  bear  it  engraven  there  indelibly.  Ail  the  force  of 
my  will,  all  the  power  of  heaven,  all  the  torments  of 
hell  can  not  tear  it  thence.  Dofla  Luz  and  my  love 
for  Dofla  Luz  live  with  an  immortal  life  in  my 
soul," 

When  she  had  finished  reading  the  manuscript  the 
grief  of  Dofla  Luz  broke  forth  afresh ;  tears  flowed 
more  abundantly  than  ever  from  her  eyes ;  sobs 
choked  her  breast,  but,  as  the  rainbow  shines  among 
the  storm  clouds,  a  sweet  smile  of  triumph  and  grati- 
tude for  this  love,  which  asked  only  for  pardon,  shone 
on  her  fresh  and  rosy  lips. 


244  DOSfA  LUZ. 

XIX. 

DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSIOIST. 

The  sorrow  of  DoQa  Luz,  when  some  days  had 
passed,  had  more  of  sweetness  in  it  than  of  bitterness. 
Although  it  did  not  cease  to  be  sorrow,  there  was 
mingled  with  it  a  feeling  of  contentment  caused  by 
having  inspired  so  lively  a  sympathy,  by  the  declara- 
tion of  the  priest  himself  that  she  had  used  no  arts  to 
allure  him,  and  by  the  absolution  which  she  bestowed 
upon  herself  after  a  rigorous  examination  of  her  con- 
science. 

Dona  Luz  was  not  to  blame  for  the  love  for  which 
she  was  grateful,  nor  for  the  death  she  mourned. 
The  friendship,  the  admiration,  and  the  veneration 
she  cherished  for  Father  Enrique  were  as  strong  as  it 
was  possible  for  them  to  be.  If  the  feeling  she  had 
cherished  for  him  had  been  stronger  she  would  have 
sinned  against  God,  against  her  honor,  and  against 
her  decorum. 

On  the  other  hand,  her  love  for  Don  Jaime  was 
legitimate,  correct,  in  consonance  with  her  rank  and 
position,  and,  lastly,  founded  on  reasons  no  less  ro- 
mantic than  those  on  which  the  love  she  might  have 
entertained  for  Father  Enrique,  if  such  a  love  had 
been  lawful,  would  have  been  founded. 

In  order  to  strengthen  and  magnify  the  romantic 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  245 

reasons  for  the  love  she  bore  Don  Jaime,  Dofla  Luz 
exaggerated  Don  Jaime's  love  for  herself.  His  disin- 
terestedness was  evident,  He  could  have  made  his 
choice  among  the  noblest  ladies  of  Madrid.  He  could 
easily  have  won — had  he  so  desired — a  wife  with  a 
title  and  an  income.  Don  Jaime  had,  beyond  a  doubt, 
disdained,  for  her  sake,  the  most  brilliant  matches. 
Don  Jaime  consequently  adored  her.  And  Don 
Jaime,  accomplished  as  he  was,  of  noble  lineage,  with 
a  brilliant  future  before  him,  honored  and.  esteemed 
already  as  an  able  commander  and  a  brave  soldier, 
might  give  just  cause  for  pride  to  the  woman  on 
whom  he  had  bestowed  his  name.  Don  Jaime,  be- 
sides, was  still  young,  was  handsome,  graceful,  intelli- 
gent, and  agreeable.  The  letters  he  wrote  to  Dofla 
Luz  from  Madrid  gave  proof  of  his  love  by  their  ten- 
derness and  affection,  and  of  his  intelligence  and  his 
wit  by  the  excellence  of  their  style  and  by  the  anec- 
dotes and  epigrams  of  which  they  were  full. 

Dofla  Luz,  then,  in  view  of  all  this,  decided  in  her 
own  mind  tliat  she  was  deeply  in  love  with  her  hus- 
band, that  she  had  good  reasons  for  being  so,  and  for 
having  married  him,  and  that  the  tender  friendship 
she  had  entertained  for  Father  Enrique,  the  tears  she 
had  shed  for  his  death,  and  even  the  kisses  she  had 
given  him,  were  inspired  by  so  different  a  feeling  that 
they  were  in  no  wise  opposed  to,  nor  did  they  alter 
or  modify  in  the  remotest  degree,  nor  loosen  in  the 


24:6  DOSfA  LUZ. 

slightest  the  bonds  of  love  and  marriage  that  united 
her  to  Don  Jaime. 

In  a  few  days  Don  Jaime  would  return.  He  had 
already  taken  a  suitable  house,  which  was  now  nearly 
furnished.  He  had  already  obtained  the  title.  Don 
Jaime  and  Dofia  Luz  might  now  call  themselves  the 
Marquis  and  Marchioness  of  Villafria.  Don  Jaime 
was  to  arrive  within  the  week,  and  it  was  now  Wed- 
nesday. 

Dofia  Luz  was  in  her  room.  She  had  just  re- 
turned from  church,  where  she  had  prayed  fervently 
for  the  soul  of  Father  Enrique,  on  whom  she  allowed 
her  thoughts  to  dwell  constantly  with  tender  melan- 
choly, when  Juana,  her  servant,  entered  and  said : 

"  Seflora,  a  stranger  wishes  to  see  you." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  Don  Grregorio  Salinas." 

"  I  do  not  know  him. — What  is  he  like  ?  " 

"  He  looks  like  a  gentleman.  He  is  well  dressed, 
although  in  traveling  attire.  It  can  be  seen  that  he 
has  just  come  from  a  journey.  He  is  short,  stout,  red 
as  a  beet,  and  he  wears  a  smiling  and  contented  look, 
although  he  is  in  mourning." 

"  Look,  Juana,  I  have  no  wish  to  see  visitors.  Tell 
him  that  I  have  a  headache — to  return  some  other 
time  if  he  has  anything  of  importance  to  say  to  me — 
that  I  am  not  receiving  to-day." 

Juana  left  the  room  to  give  the  stranger  her  mis- 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  247 

tress's  message,  and  returned  a  few  moments  after- 
ward with  a  letter,  which  she  handed  to  Doiia  Luz. 

"  Don  Gregorio  Salinas,"  said  Juana,  "  desires  me 
to  give  you  this  letter,  and  says  that  you  will  see  him 
as  soon  as  you  have  read  it.  He  says  the  letter  will 
serve  as  his  credentials." 

When  Dofla  Luz  took  the  letter  and  saw  the  su- 
perscription she  was  filled  with  amazement.  She  had 
recognized  her  father's  handwriting ! 

She  opened  it  hastily  and  looked  at  the  signature. 
It  was  her  father's. 

She  then  read  the  date  and  saw  that  it  had  been 
written  more  than  fifteen  years  before.  The  letter 
was  short ;  it  contained  only  these  words : 

"  My  dear  daughter  :  Don  Gregorio  Salinas,  a 
notary  of  Madrid,  a  man  who  possesses  my  fullest 
confidence,  will  deliver  this  letter  to  you.  Place  im- 
plicit reliance  on  what  he  tells  you.  Follow  his  coun- 
sels and  receive,  without  the  slightest  scruple,  what- 
ever he  may  offer  to  deliver  to  you." 

"  Ask  the  gentleman  to  come  in,"  said  DoQa  Luz. 

After  the  usual  salutations  and  when  Dofla  Luz 
and  her  hitherto  unknown  guest  were  comfortably 
seated,  the  latter  quietly,  and  with  the  air  of  one  who 
has  weighty  matters  to  impart,  proceeded  to  speak  as 
follows : 

"  You  already  know  that  my  name  is  Gregorio 
Salinas.    I  am  now  a  notary,  and  am  not  ill  provided 


248  DONA  LUZ. 

with  the  gifts  of  fortune.  Twenty-eight  years  ago  I 
was  a  student  without  a  peseta  in  my  pocket ;  but  in 
exchange  I  was  neither  stout,  nor  gray,  nor  bald,  nor 
wrinkled,  and  people  used  to  say,  if  your  ladyship  will 
excuse  my  vanity  in  recalling  it,  that  I  was  a  good- 
looking,  sprightly,  and  agreeable  youth.  There  was 
nothing  strange,  therefore,  in  a  woman  of  the  merits 
of  my  Joaquina  falling  in  love  with  me.  (Joaquina 
is  my  wife,  at  your  ladyship's  service.)  She  has  a 
strong  affection  for  your  ladyship,  and  she  has  charged 
me  to  give  you  her  respectful  and  affectionate  re- 
gards." 

"  Many  thanks,"  returned  Dofia  Luz,  interrupting 
Don  Gregorio.  "  Dispense  with  ceremony  in  address- 
ing me,  and  forgive  me  if  I  ask  you  frankly,  in  addi- 
tion, to  make  your  story  as  short  as  possible,  for  I  am 
dying  with  curiosity  to  hear  what  you  have  to  tell  me." 

"  Have  patience,  Sefiora  Marchioness,  have  pa- 
tience. I  promise  you  to  be  neither  prolix  nor 
tedious,  but  to  go  at  once  to  the  point.  Do  not  im- 
agine that  anything  I  shall  say  is  without  its  purpose ; 
every  word  is  necessary  to  your  complete  understand- 
ing of  the  question." 

"Continue,  then,  and  once  more  forgive  me  for 
interrupting  you." 

"  Well,  then,  as  I  was  about  to  say,"  resumed  Don 
Gregorio,  "  my  wife  is  now  a  fresh  and  handsome  ma- 
tron, although  the  years  have  not  passed  over  her 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  249 

without  leaving  their  traces.  She  has  given  me  five 
children,  all  beautiful  as  the  sun — they  are  all  at  your 
service,  Seflora  Marchioness.  At  the  time  I  speak  of, 
before  our  marriage,  my  Joaquina  was  one  of  the 
handsomest  girls  to  be  found  in  all  Madrid,  and  was 
in  the  service  of  a  certain  lady  of  the  highest  rank, 
whose  entire  confidence  she  enjoyed  and  whose  most 
important  secrets  she  possessed." 

"  And  what  was  the  name  of  this  lady  ?  " 

"  The  Countess  of  Fajalauza." 

Dofla  Luz  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  indiffer- 
ence, as  if  she  heard  the  name  for  the  first  time,  and 
was  silent.     Don  Gregorio  continued : 

"  Both  my  wife  and  myself  owe  a  heavy  debt  of 
gratitude  to  this  lady.  She  it  was  who  brought  about 
our  marriage,  she  bestowed  on  us  her  protection  and 
gave  us  the  means  of  attaining  the  comfort  and  pros- 
perity which  we  now  enjoy.  May  God  reward  her  for 
it,  and  increase  her  glory  !  She  well  deserves  it,  for, 
after  all,  if  she  committed  a  fault  she  had  her  purga- 
tory in  the  misery  she  endured  in  this  life.  The 
countess  was  married  to  a  man  with  a  temper  so  vio- 
lent that  his  equal  has  never  been  seen  in  our  day. 
He  made  every  one  tremble  before  him,  beginning 
with  his  wife.  He  had  had  various  affairs  of  what  is 
called  "  honor,"  and  he  had  the  killing  of  three  men 
on  his  conscience,  and  the  wounding  of  several  others. 
He  had  the  reputation  of  being  so  good  a  shot  that  he 


250  •  DOS^A  LUZ. 

could  kill  a  mosquito  on  the  wing  at  fifty  yards*  dis- 
tance, and  so  skillful  a  swordsman  that  he  could  run 
the  devil  himself  through  with  his  sword,  if  he  got 
into  a  quarrel  with  him.  Add  to  this  that  he  was  as 
jealous  as  a  Turk,  and  this,  not  because  of  his  excess- 
ive love  for  the  countess,  but  for  other  reasons.  The 
poor  countess  had  given  him  no  cause  for  jealousy 
during  eight  years  of  married  life.  She  was,  indeed,  a 
very  saint  for  patience,  and  a  devout  Christian." 

Dofia  Luz  began  to  give  evident  signs  of  interest 
in  the  narration.     Don  Gregorio  continued  : 

"  The  countess  had  brought  her  husband  a  large 
fortune.  Evil  tongues  had  spread  the  report  that  the 
only  motive  the  count  had  in  marrying  her  was  self- 
interest.  Love  had  no  part  in  the  match,  on  either 
side.  The  countess  married  her  husband  when  she 
was  little  more  than  a  child,  yielding  to  the  persua- 
sions of  her  mother,  and  ignorant  of  the  importance 
of  the  step  she  was  taking.  Shortly  afterward  her 
mother  died,  and  the  orphan,  without  brothers  or  sis- 
ters or  other  near  relations,  found  herself  alone  in  the 
world  in  the  power  of  a  man  who  might  rather  be 
called  her  tyrant  than  her  husband  and  companion. 

"  The  countess  had  no  reason  whatever  either  to 
love  or  respect  her  husband ;  but  she  respected  her 
own  reputation  and  she  feared  God  and  venerated  the 
precepts  of  morality  and  religion.  No  fault  could  be 
found  with  her  conduct,  as  I  have  said,  during  the 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  251 

first  eight  years  of  her  married  life.  She  accepted  her 
fate  with  the  resignation  of  a  martyr.  She  had  not 
even  the  consolation  and  the  refuge  which  many 
other  women  have  of  maternal  affection.  The  ill- 
starred  marriage  had  been  a  childless  one. 

"  An  affair  of  great  importance  at  this  time  called 
the  count  to  Lima.  It  did  not  suit  his  purpose  to 
confide  to  any  one  the  nature  of  his  business  there,  in 
which  a  more  than  respectable  sum  was  at  stake. 
The  countess  was  in  a  delicate  state  of  health  and  un- 
able to  accompany  her  husband  on  so  long  a  voyage. 
The  count,  after  much  hesitation,  resolved  to  make 
the  journey  alone.  This  he  did,  remaining  in  Peru 
nearly  a  year  and  a  half. 

''  During  the  absence  of  the  count  the  countess 
attended  neither  parties  nor  other  places  of  amuse- 
ment. She  led  a  very  retired  life,  but  there  were 
never  wanting  gallants  or  admirers  to  pay  their 
court  to  her.  The  countess  treated  them  all  alike 
with  indifference,  with  the  exception  of  one,  who  was 
endowed  with  gifts  so  rare  and  brilliant,  who  loved,  or 
pretended  to  love  her  so  ardently,  who  was  so  clever, 
so  handsome,  and  so  winning,  that  he  succeeded  in 
captivating  the  heart  of  the  unhappy  countess.  To 
this  result  the  reputation  for  breaking  hearts  which 
the  gallant  already  enjoyed  contributed  in  no  slight 
degree.  Nothing  has  so  much  weight  with  women  in 
these  matters  as  the  consideration  that  the  man  who 


252  DONA  LUZ. 

aspires  to  their  affection  has  scorned  for  their  sakes 
other  women,  admired,  young,  handsome,  rich,  or  dis- 
tinguished. 

"  In  short,  and  be  the  cause  what  it  might,  the 
countess  fell  in  love  with  the  gallant,  and  such  was 
the  ardor  of  her  passion  that  she  allowed  it  to  tri- 
umph over  her  most  deeply  rooted  principles. 

"  These  relations  remained  wrapped  in  the  pro- 
foundest  mystery.  No  one  but  my  Joaquina  had  any 
knowledge  of  them.  The  countess  was  a  strange 
woman.  Impelled  by  the  irresistible  power  of  her 
affection  she  would  consent  to  see  her  lover,  and  after- 
ward she  would  weep  and  pray  and  be  filled  with 
abhorrence  for  herself  as  if  she  thought  herself  the 
vilest  of  created  beings  and  despaired  even  of  the 
mercy  of  God. 

"  In  this  state  of  spiritual  conflict,  divided  between 
love  and  repentance,  she  remained  until  her  husband's 
return. 

"  Her  secret  had  been  so  well  guarded  that  no  one 
even  suspected  that  she  had  one. 

"  The  count,  however,  who  was  suspicious  and 
jealous  by  nature,  had  suspected  something  from  the 
very  day  of  his  return.  Perhaps  his  wife's  agitation, 
the  manifest  repugnance  toward  him  which  had  taken 
the  place  of  her  former  indifference,  some  chance 
word,  some  accusing  sigh,  sufficed  to  put  him  on  the 
scent. 


DON  GREGOillO'S  MISSION.  253 

"  One  night,  while  the  countess  was  asleep,  her 
husband  obtained  the  key  of  her  writing  desk,  and 
carefully  examined  its  contents.  The  countess  had 
imprudently  preserved  the  first  letters  she  had  re- 
ceived from  her  lover,  and  the  count  read  these  let- 
ters. Fortunately,  they  contained  nothing  to  crimi- 
nate the  countess.  It  was  even  possible  to  suppose 
that  she  had  preserved  them  through  vjtnity  and  as  a 
proof  of  the  love  she  had  inspired.  The  letters,  how- 
ever, were  motive  sufficient  for  the  most  terrible 
scenes  between  the  count  and  his  wife.  If  the  letters 
had  contained  a  proof  of  her  guilt,  the  count  would 
have  killed  her.  As  it  was,  he  confined  himself  to 
torturing  her,  suspecting  her,  and  watching  her.  Un- 
der a  plausible  pretext,  he  brought  his  sister,  an  old 
maid,  a  very  hell-fury,  to  reside  in  the  house.  This 
woman  was  thenceforth  the  spy,  the  companion,  the 
duenna,  the  shadow  of  the  countess. 

"  As  for  the  lover,  whose  name  the  count  had  dis- 
covered from  the  letters,  he,  too,  had  to  pay  dearly  for 
her  imprudence.  The  count  sought  him  out  and 
compelled  him  to  fight  a  duel  with  him,  without  wit- 
nesses or  any  of  the  other  formalities  usual  in  such 
cases,  in  order  that  no  one  should  learn  of  the  duel  or 
inquire  into  its  motive.  The  lover  Avas  left  lying  dan- 
gerously wounded  in  his  own  house,  and  it  was  only 
by  a  miracle  of  science  that  his  life  was  saved." 

"  I  was  aware  of  this  adventure  of  my  father," 


254  I>Ol?A  LUZ. 

said  Dofia  Luz,  "  but  I  knew  neither  the  name  of  his 
adversary  nor  the  cause  of  the  duel.     Continue,  Don 

Gregorio." 

"  Now  that  you  know  that  the  gallant  was  the 
marquis,  your  father,  I  shall  call  him  by  his  name 
during  the  remainder  of  this  relation.  If  any  word 
should  escape  me  calculated  to  wound,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  the  memory  of  the  Sefior  Marquis,  I  offer  you 
a  million  apologies  in  advance." 

Dofla  Luz  signified  by  a  gesture  her  acceptance  of 
the  proffered  apologies. 

Don  Gregorio  continued : 

"  The  terror  with  which  her  husband  inspired  her, 
the  vigilance  of  the  Argus  in  petticoats  whom  she  had 
at  her  side  in  the  person  of  her  sister-in-law,  and  her 
own  remorse,  all  conspired  to  prevent  the  countess 
again  seeing  the  marquis  in  secret.  The  latter,  after  a 
time,  rooted  from  his  heart  an  affection  so  dangerous 
and  so  hopeless,  and  sought  consolation  from  other 
sources. 

"  Every  link  would  have  been  broken  and  all  com- 
munication have  ceased  forever  between  the  marquis 
and  the  countess  if  Heaven  had  not  ordained  that 
there  should  remain  a  living  reminder  of  the  love  and 
the  sin  of  both,  a  being  whose  existence  bound  them 
together  and  over  whose  welfare  and  future  fate  it 
was  the  duty  of  both  to  watch." 

"  And  my  mother,"  exclaimed  Dofla  Luz,  "  never 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  255 

saw  me  again  after  her  husband's  return  from 
Lima?" 

"  She  saw  you,  but  from  a  distance,  without  being 
able  to  embrace  you,  kiss  you,  or  speak  to  you ;  her 
thoughts,  however,  were  always  with  you." 

"  Unhappy  mother ! " 

"  The  countess  heard  of  you  through  my  Joaquina. 
Through  my  Joaquina,  too,  she  communicated  with 
the  marquis  in  every  matter  concerning  you — the  only 
subject  on  which  she  and  your  father  now  held  any 
communication. 

"  In  my  house  it  was  that  your  ladyship  passed 
the  first  days  of  your  existence  under  my  Joaquina's 
care.  Our  seamstress,  one  Antonia  Gutierrez,  who  had 
just  lost  her  own  illegitimate  child,  was  your  nurse. 
She  herself  died  not  long  afterward,  and  I  arranged 
matters  in  such  a  way,  with  the  consent  of  the  count- 
ess and  of  the  girl's  relations,  as  that  you  should  pass 
for  her  child  in  order  to  secure  your  legal  right  to 
the  inheritance  of  the  title  and  the  estates  of  the  mar- 
quis, your  father. 

"  After  the  return  of  the  count  to  Madrid,  and 

especially  after  the  occurrence  of  the  duel,  we  were 

all  in  a  state  of  constant  terror  lest  he  should  come 

to  know  of  your  existence,  and  the  marquis,  as  soon 

as  he  had  recovered  from  his  wound,  removed  you 

from  our  house,  to  our  great  grief  and  to  the  still 

greater  grief  of  the  countess,  and  placed  you  in  the 
17 


DOSfA  LUZ. 

house  of  a  lady  of  somewhat  doubtful  reputation. 
During  the  whole  time  of  your  stay  in  this  house  the 
countess  was  very  unhappy.  She  never  rested  until, 
yielding  to  her  earnest  entreaties,  conveyed  to  him  by 
Joaquina,  the  marquis  took  you  to  his  own  house, 
where  he  put  you,  first  under  the  care  of  a  worthy 
woman  and  afterward  in  charge  of  an  English  gov- 
erness whom  the  countess  had  persuaded  him  to  en- 
gage. 

*'  The  marquis,  meanwhile,  far  from  settling  down 
as  years  went  by,  paid  not  the  slightest  heed  to  those 
wise  sayings,  '  Let  him  who  would  be  an  old  man  long 
begin  to  be  an  old  man  early,'  and  '  An  old  man,  with 
care,  will  reach  his  hundredth  year.'  Far  from  ex- 
emplifying in  his  life  the  wisdom  of  those  sayings,  his 
conduct  served  rather  to  illustrate  the  truth  of  that 
other  saying — and  forgive  me,  your  ladyship,  for  mak- 
ing the  application,  but  the  story  seems  almost  to  cry 
aloud  for  it — "  The  older  the  tree  the  tougher  the 
bark."  By  this  I  mean  to  say  that  the  marquis,  in- 
stead of  reforming  with  age,  led  a  more  disorderly  life 
than  ever,  which  was  a  source  of  great  mortification 
to  the  countess.  The  passion  to  which  she  had  sacri- 
ficed so  much — honor,  tranquillity,  and  happiness — 
had  been  for  the  marquis  only  an  episode,  an  advent- 
ure. This  greatly  distressed  and  grieved  the  countess, 
but  there  was  something  else  which  distressed  her  still 
more,  which  kept  her  in  a  state  of  continual  anxiety, 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  257 

and  wliich,  growing  daily  more  serious,  became  at 
last  a  source  of  unceasing  torment  for  her. 

"  The  marquis  was  fast  hastening  to  his  ruin ;  his 
property  was  mortgaged  to  its  full  value,  and  the  usu- 
rious interest  he  was  obliged  to  pay  consumed  the 
greater  part  of  his  income.  It  was  an  assured  fact 
that  the  marquis  would  end  his  days  in  poverty. 
What  was  then  to  become  of  his  daughter,  Dofia 
Luz,  orphaned,  without  a  protector,  and  without  re- 
sources ? 

"  The  worst  of  the  matter  was  that  the  countess 
could  render  no  assistance  to  her  daughter  while  her 
husband  lived.  Before  the  count  had  begun  to  sus- 
pect his  wife  she  had  enjoyed  the  shadow  of  inde- 
pendence and  liberty.  After  that  the  countess  was 
rather  a  slave  than  a  wife.  A  loud  exclamation,  a 
harsh  word,  a  menacing  gesture  of  her  husband's, 
were  sufficient  to  fill  her  with  terror. 

"  The  count,  besides  being  jealous,  was  avaricious, 
and  the  countess  could  not  dispose  of  a  real  without 
giving  a  strict  account  of  the  manner  of  its  outlay. 

"  Her  imagination,  with  cruel  art,  pictured  to  her 
in  the  most  vivid  colors  the  misfortune  she  feared. 
She  fancied  she  beheld  her  daughter  penniless,  en- 
during every  kind  of  humiliation,  engaged  in  the 
vilest  tasks,  while  she  was  rolling  in  wealth  yet  unable 
to  offer  her  any  assistance. 

"  How  could  she  assist  her  without  the  count's 


258  DO^A  LUZ. 

knowledge  ?  And  if  the  count  knew  she  assisted  her 
he  would  know  also  of  her  crime  and  her  shame ;  he 
would  appear  before  her  as  an  angry  and  inflexible 
judge,  and  with  one  insulting  word  would  kill  her. 

"  The  countess,  tormented  by  her  conscience,  and 
reduced  to  the  lowest  depths  of  misery  and  humilia- 
tion by  her  terror  of  the  count,  longed  for  death  that 
she  might  rest,  while  at  the  same  time  she  desired  to 
live,  and,  above  all,  to  outlive  her  husband. 

"  While  he  lived  the  countess  knew  that  she 
would  never  have  the  courage  to  take  any  step  in  her 
daughter's  favor.  Whether  as  a  gift  during  her  life,- 
or  as  a  legacy  at  her  death,  she  could  devise  no  means 
by  which  she  could  share  with  the  girl  who  was  her 
own  flesh  and  blood  the  wealth  that  was  hers,  not 
that  of  the  tyrant  who  tortured  her. 

"  The  countess  then  submitted  herself  to  the  will 
of  the  Most  High,  and  waited  calmly,  and  trying  not 
to  desire  it,  for  her  husband's  death  to  take  place 
before  her  own.  She  made  a  solemn  resolution,  if 
this  should  occur,  to  leave  in  her  will  to  her  hus- 
band's relations  everything,  both  real  estate  and  per- 
sonal property,  in  whose  acquisition  and  ownership 
the  most  scrupulous  conscience  could  suppose  the 
count  to  have  had  any  part ;  to  leave  large  legacies 
to  those  persons  who  had  served  her  faithfully,  as  my 
Joaquina,  for  instance,  and  the  remainder  of  her 
fortune,  then  and  still  invested  in  Government  bonds 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  259 

in  various  banks  and  commercial  houses,  to  her 
daughter. 

"  The  marquis  learned  through  Joaquina  of  this 
resolution  of  the  countess,  and  when,  beset  by  his 
creditors,  having  mortgaged  or  sold  everything  he 
possessed  to  satisfy  their  claims,  he  determined  to  re- 
tire to  this  toAvn,  he  gave  me,  as  a  letter  of  introduc- 
tion the  letter  you  have  just  read.  Until  the  occur- 
rence of  the  event  provided  for  the  letter  was  to 
remain  in  my  possession  unknown  to  everybody  else. 
And  so  until  now  it  has  remained. 

"  After  the  death  of  the  marquis  there  remained 
but  three  persons  in  existence  who  knew  of  the  inten- 
tion of  the  countess  to  make  you  her  heiress." 

"And  who  were  those  persons?"  asked  Dofia  Luz, 
with  an  appearance  of  the  greatest  interest. 

"  The  countess  herself,  my  wife,  who  is  discretion 
personified,  and  your  ladyship's  humble  servant." 

"  And  no  one  else  ?  " 

"  No  one  else." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

Don  Gregorio  then  continued  his  relation  in  the 
following  words : 

"  Heaven  decreed  that  the  plans,  I  will  not  say 
the  wishes,  of  our  benefactress  should  be  fulfilled. 
The  count  died  a  little  more  than  a  month  and  a  half 
ago.     It  seems  like  a  miracle  that  the  countess,  who 


260  DOSfA  LUZ. 

was  so  sickly  and  so  frail,  should  have  survived  him. 
Force  of  will  can  accomplish  a  great  deal.  It  would 
seem  as  if  the  countess  had  survived  her  husband 
only  in  order  to  carry  out  her  purpose  and  then  die." 

"  Is  my  mother  dead  ? "  exclaimed  Dofla  Luz,  her 
eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  She  is  dead." 

"  And  without  having  called  me  to  her  side,  with- 
out having  seen  me  or  embraced  me ! " 

"  The  countess  desired  to  do  all  this,  but  at  the 
same  time  she  feared  to  do  it.  She  was  ashamed  to 
call  ^o  her  side  the  daughter  to  whom,  in  revealing 
herself  to  her  as  her  mother  she  should  be  obliged  to 
confess  her  fault  and,  as  she  called  it,  her  dishonor. 
She  doubted  that  a  daughter  whom — be  the  reason 
what  it  might — she  had  not  reared,  who  had  never 
seen  her,  on  whom  she  had  never  bestowed  a  caress, 
could  love  her.  She  did  not  believe  in  the  mysterious 
power  of  nature.  In  her  own  case  it  was  different ; 
she  knew  that  her  Luz  lived  because  she  had  been 
lavishing  her  love  upon  her  for  so  many  years,  but 
from  her  Luz,  when  it  should  be  all  at  once  revealed 
to  her  that  she  had  a  mother  in  Madrid,  what  sudden 
affection,  what  tenderness  could  she  expect?  So  at 
least  thought  the  countess.  And,  above  all,  for  the 
very  reason  that  she  loved  her  daughter,  she  was 
ashamed  to  make  herself  known  to  her ;  the  mere 
thought  of  doing  so  made  her  blush.     Fear  of  scandal, 


DON  GREGORIO'S  MISSION.  261 

the  dread  lest  her  fault  should  be  known,  served  also 
as  an  obstacle  to  the  fulfillment  of  her  desire.  And, 
finally,  the  countess,  shortly  after  her  husband's 
death,  was  seized  with  the  illness  which  was  to  prove 
her  last,  and  had  barely  the  necessary  time  to  put  her 
affairs  in  order  and  carry  out  her  resolution.  She 
lived  for  a  few  weeks  longer,  but  delirium  set  in  and 
she  never  fully  recovered  consciousness  of  her  sur 
roundings  or  the  memory  of  past  events.  At  the  end 
of  this  time  she  died." 

Dofla  Luz  gave  free  vent  to  the  genuine  and  pro- 
found emotion  which  these  words  caused  her.  Don 
Gregorio  remained  silent  for  a  few  moments,  respect- 
ing this  tribute  of  grief  paid  by  a  daughter  to  the 
memory  of  the  woman  to  whom  (although  she  had 
never  known  her)  she  owed  her  existence. 

Presently  Don  Gregorio,  speaking  now  in  the 
cold  and  formal  tones  of  the  man  of  business,  re- 
sumed : 

"  I  am,  your  ladyship,  an  executor  of  the  will  of 
the  deceased  and  a  trustee  of  the  estate,  especially 
charged  with  your  interests.  All  the  necessary  for- 
malities have  been  gone  through,  for  I  am  not  one  to 
go  asleep  over  ray  business.  Everything  has  been  ar- 
ranged in  the  manner  least  likely  to  give  rise  to  gos- 
sip or  comment.  The  legacies  have  all  been  paid; 
my  wife  has  received  a  handsome  sum ;  the  relations 
of  the  count  have  received  their  share  of  the  jewels, 


262  DOSfA  LUZ. 

money,  and  real  estate.  The  chief  part  of  the  inher- 
itance is  now  to  be  delivered.  I  have  in  my  possession 
the  documents  necessary  to  establish  your  title  as  legal 
heir  to  the  fortune  of  the  countess,  invested  in  gov- 
ernment bonds  placed  in  various  banking  houses  in 
Paris,  London,  and  Frankfort.  I  do  not  remember 
the  exact  nominal  amount  of  the  whole,  but  its  actual 
amount  is  something  over  the  trifling  sum  of  seven- 
teen million  reals.  Whenever  your  ladyship  pleases 
you  can  take  possession  of  your  inheritance,  and  in- 
form yourself  of  the  precise  manner  of  its  invest- 
ment." 

"  As  you  probably  already  know,  Don  Gregorio," 
answered  Dofia  Luz,  "  I  am  maiTied.  Let  us  wait  for 
my  husband's  arrival,  then,  to  take  formal  possession 
of  the  inheritance.  He  will  assume  sole  and  absolute 
control  of  everything,  with  the  necessary  legal  formali- 
ties. In  three  or  four  days  he  will  be  here.  Mean- 
while this  house  is  large  enough  to  offer  you  its  hospi- 
tality." 

Don  Gregorio  accepted  the  invitation  of  Dofia 
Luz,  by  which  he  felt  himself  highly  honored,  and 
transferred  to  a  room  which  she  had  prepared  for  him 
in  her  ancestral  house  the  valise  he  had  left  in  the 
wretched  inn  of  the  town. 

Dofia  Luz,  meanwhile,  although  greatly  affected  by 
the  news  of  her  mother's  death  and  by  the  melan- 
choly history  which  she  had  just  heard  related,  paid 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.  263 

tribute  to  human  weakness,  and  gave  way  to  her  joy- 
ful emotions  at  finding  herself  so  rich.  But  what 
most  delighted  her  in  the  thought  of  a^  these  mill- 
ions that  had  dropped  down  to  her  from  the  skies,  as 
it  were,  was  that  they  were  to  be  a  magnificent  gift 
which  she  would  bestow  upon  her  Don  Jaime  in  re- 
turn for  the  disinterested  love  with  which  he  had 
chosen  her  to  share  his  fortune  and  to  bear  his  name. 


XX. 

THE  MYSTERIOUS   LETTER. 

The  arrival  of  a  stranger,  especially  if  this  strang- 
er chances  to  wear  a  frock  coat  and  a  bee-hive,  that 
is  to  say,  a  hat  with  a  high  crown,  is  always  a  note- 
worthy event  in  every  inland  town  in  Andalusia. 
Public  curiosity  is  excited,  and  every  one  asks  his 
neighbor,  "  What  can  have  brought  this  stranger 
here?" 

This  was  the  question  the  Villaf rians  or  Yillafri- 
escos  asked  one  another  as  soon  as  they  saw  Don 
Gregorio.  And  curiosity  increased  tenfold  when  it 
was  known  that  Don  Gregorio  had  taken  up  his  quar- 
ters in  the  house  of  Dofia  Luz. 

In  addition  to  curiosity,  there  are  other  and  nobler 
sentiments  aroused  among  the  inhabitants  of  small 


264  doiJa  luz. 

places  by  the  advent  of  a  stranger — sociability  and 
hospitality. 

The  men  of  the  place  hasten  to  call  on  the  strang- 
er and  offer  him  their  services,  and  this  is  what  the 
magnates  of  Villafria  did  in  the  case  of  Don  Gregorio. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  a  visit,  although  it  may 
be  suggested  by  courtesy,  need  not  be  confined  within 
the  limits  of  mere  courtesy.  "  Courtesy  is  not  incom- 
patible with  courage,"  and,  accordingly,  the  stranger  is 
unhesitatingly  asked  as  many  questions  as  may  be  ne- 
cessary in  order  to  discover  who  he  is,  what  is  the  ob- 
ject of  his  visit  and  what  are  his  plans. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  stranger,  though  he  should 
not  ask  a  single  question,  is  put  in  possession  of  every 
detail  relating  to  the  affairs  of  the  place,  the  wealth 
and  prosperity  of  the  inhabitants  being  exaggerated 
in  the  account  through  a  spirit  of  vanity  and  boast- 
fulness. 

In  regard  to  this  latter  trait,  however,  the  inhab- 
itants of  Villafria  had  recently  received  a  severe  les- 
son which  had  been  productive  of  salutary  and  lasting 
results. 

There  had  come  to  the  town  a  certain  stransrer 
who  had  made  the  acquaintance  on  the  journey  of  the 
son  of  one  of  the  richest  farmers  of  the  place,  who 
chanced  to  be  his  fellow-traveler.  This  young  man 
took  the  stranger  to  the  house  of  his  father,  who  was 
more  given  to  boasting  of  his  riches  and  the  ease  and 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.  265 

comfort  in  which  he  lived  than  any  other  man  in  Vil- 
lafria. 

It  needed  but  few  questions  on  the  stranger's  part 
to  draw  from  the  farmer  a  detailed  account  of  his 
wealth,  which  he  made  three  times  greater  than  it 
was.  He  owned  a  still  which  had  been  in  operation 
for  eight  months,  and  he  told  the  stranger  that  he 
owned  two  stills  which  had  been  in  operation  for  a 
year,  and  which  were  frequently  kept  going  both 
night  and  day.  He  owned  an  olive  mill  with  hy- 
draulic pressure,  and  he  told  him  that  he  had  three 
mills  with  hydraulic  pressure.  His  vineyards  pro- 
duced five  thousand  arrohas  of  wine,  and  he  told  him 
that  they  produced  twelve  thousand.  He  had  pressed 
two  thousand  bushels  of  olives,  and  he  assured  him 
that  he  had  pressed  over  six  thousand  bushels.  The 
other  farmers,  not  wishing  to  be  thought  too  greatly 
behind  their  fellow-townsman  in  wealth,  also  exagger- 
ated to  the  stranger  the  amount  of  their  profits,  their 
harvests,  and  their  industries.  The  stranger  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  he  had  come  to  a  sort  of  Gol- 
conda,  and  then  disclosed  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Gov- 
ernment inspector,  making  the  tour  of  the  towns  and 
villages  of  the  country  for  the  purpose  of  finding  out 
if  the  inhabitants  had  made  false  statements  regard- 
ing the  amount  of  their  possessions,  with  a  view  to 
verifying  the  returns,  particularly  in  relation  to  the 
tax  on  industries. 


266  D05(A  LUZ. 

The  panic  in  Villafria  was  tremendous.  The  com- 
missioner declared  that  he  found  himself  in  the  harsh 
necessity  of  putting  in  possession  of  the  authorities 
the  information  he  had  acquired  concerning  the  ex- 
tent of  the  wealth  here  concealed ;  and  the  largest  of 
the  tax  payers,  terrified  at  the  consequences,  should 
he  carry  out  his  intention,  assembled  at  once  in  the 
town-hall,  and,  sending  for  the  commissioner,  en- 
treated him  not  to  ruin  them,  saying  that  they  were 
extremely  poor,  and  that  three  fifths  of  what  they  had 
told  him  regarding  their  possessions  was  only  boasting 
and  lies. 

The  commissioner  answered  that  there  might  in- 
deed be  something  of  boastful  exaggeration  in  what 
they  had  told  him,  but  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
inhabitants  were  much  more  wealthy  and  trade  was 
much  more  active  in  the  place  than  appeared  in  the 
official  reports,  and  that  in  compliance  with  his  duty, 
and  in  order  to  draw  up  a  correct  report,  he  should 
be  obliged  to  make  a  thorough  investigation  in  the 
matter.  The  tax  payers  begged  him  not  to  put  him- 
self to  all  this  inconvenience,  saying  that  it  would 
cause  him  an  infinite  amount  of  trouble,  and  that  no 
one  would  thank  him  for  it  in  the  end ;  and  finally, 
to  give  greater  force  to  their  arguments,  they  made 
up  a  purse  among  them  of  eight  thousand  reals, 
which  they  gave  him  to  help  to  pay  his  expenses  and 
to  compensate  him  for  the  fatigues  of  his  journey ; 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.  267 

whereupon,  to  the  satisfaction  of  every  one  concerned, 
he  carried  his  music,  or,  let  us  say,  his  statistics,  else- 
where. 

Since  this  event,  the  inhabitants  of  Villafria  had 
ceased  to  indulge  in  the  vice  of  boastf  ulness,  cultivat- 
ing assiduously  in  its  stead  the  virtue  of  humility. 
Frankness  and  candor  they  thought  qualities  equally 
to  be  eschewed  with  boastf  ulness,  and  by  no  means  to 
be  employed  in  the  gratification  of  impertinent  curi- 
osity, knowing  well,  as  they  did,  the  practical  wisdom 
of  the  proverb,  "  If  any  one  seeks  to  find  out  your 
business,  mislead  him  with  lies." 

From  this  proceeded  the  prudent  mistrust  and  the 
artful  dissimulation  manifested  by  the  inhabitants  of 
Villafria  in  their  intercourse  with  strangers — qualities 
which  did  not  prevent  them,  however,  from  trying  to 
find  out,  on  their  side,  all  there  was  to  be  known  about 
the  business  of  any  stranger  who  might  visit  their  town. 

It  did  not  require  the  exercise  of  much  ingenuity 
to  induce  Don  Gregorio  to  disclose  the  object  of  his 
visit.  There  was  no  longer  any  reason  for  keeping  it 
a  secret,  and  he  stated  it  frankly  to  those  who  ques- 
tioned him  in  the  matter. 

Amazement  and  stupefaction  reigned  in  Villafria 
when  it  was  known  that  Dofia  Luz  was  a  millionaire 
— the  heiress  to  an  immense  fortune. 

The  surprise  of  Don  Acisclo  was  in  no  way  in- 
ferior to  that  of  his  fellow-townspeople. 


268  DOSfA  LUZ. 

Although  nothing  had  been  further  from  his 
thoughts  than  that  Dofla  Luz  was  to  be  a  great  heir- 
ess, he  had  known  of  and  expected  Don  Gregorio's 
visit  some  time  before  it  had  taken  place,  although  he 
was  ignorant  of  its  purpose. 

Not  many  hours  before  his  death  the  marquis, 
after  making  his  confession  to  Don  Miguel,  had  sent 
for  the  good  Don  Acisclo,  and,  in  the  presence  of  the 
priest,  exacted  from  him  a  promise,  binding  him  by 
oath  to  secrecy,  to  carry  out — when  the  proper  time 
should  arrive — the  commission  with  which  he  was 
about  to  intrust  him. 

Don  Acisclo  gave  the  required  promise,  and  took 
the  prescribed  oath,  and  the  marquis  then  requested 
Don  Miguel  to  open  a  drawer  in  his  writing  desk  and 
take  from  it  a  sealed  letter  which  he  would  find  there, 
bearing  the  superscription  "  To  my  daughter  Luz." 

When  the  priest  had  complied  with  his  request  the 
marquis,  exacting  a  promise  of  silence  from  him  also 
concerning  the  matter  of  the  letter  which  he  was  to 
regard  as  a  secret  communicated  to  him  in  the  confes- 
sional, begged  him  to  take  charge  of  it  and  to  deliver 
it  in  person  to  Don  Acisclo,  who  was  to  demand  it 
from  him  on  the  arrival  in  Villafria  of  a  certain  per- 
son called  Don  Gregorio  Salinas,  or  when  two  months 
should  have  elapsed  after  the  death  of  a  certain  lady 
residing  in  Madrid,  called  the  Countess  of  Fajalauza. 
Don  Acisclo  was  to  employ  a  discreet  and  trustworthy 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.  269 

agent  in  Madrid  to  give  him  notice,  as  soon  as  it 
should  occur,  of  this  latter  event.  On  the  occurrence 
of  either  one  of  the  events  mentioned  Don  Acisclo  was 
to  deliver  the  letter  to  Dofia  Luz.  In  the  event  of  the 
priest's  death,  the  letter  was  to  pass  into  the  posses- 
sion of  Don  Acisclo,  and  in  the  event  of  Don  Acisclo's 
death  into  the  possession  of  the  person  whom  he 
should  designate  as  his  successor  in  the  charge  of  de- 
livering the  mysterious  letter. 

Don  Acisclo  entertained  so  low  an  opinion,  al- 
though expressed  with  all  due  respect,  of  his  ruined 
master's  common  sense  that,  notwithstanding  the  sol- 
emn character  of  the  trust  confided  to  him,  he  was 
inclined  to  attach  but  little  importance  to  it,  and  the 
thought  furthest  from  his  mind  was  that  the  letter 
could  have  even  the  remotest  connection  with  any- 
thing like  money.  Don  Acisclo  took  it  for  granted 
that  the  letter  was  some  new  piece  of  folly  of  the  mar- 
quis. 

However,  as  has  been  stated  more  than  once,  Don 
Acisclo  was  a  righteous  man  who  lived  in  the  fear  of 
the  Lord ;  he  had  never  been  found  wanting  in  pro- 
bity or  justice,  endeavoring  to  reconcile  them  both 
with  his  own  advantage,  and  he  never  neglected  to 
fulfill  a  trust  confided  to  him,  always  providing  that 
he  could  do  so  with  little  or  no  inconvenience  to  him- 
self. 

Accordingly,  he  kept  the  secret  of  the  letter  for 


270  DOSfA  LUZ. 

many  years,  a  friend  living  in  Madrid  being  engaged 
to  inform  him  of  the  death  of  the  countess  when  this 
event  should  take  place. 

More  than  two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  the  news 
of  the  countess's  •  death  had  been  received  by  Don 
Acisclo,  who  only  waited  for  the  expiration  of  the 
time  specified  by  the  marquis  or  the  arrival  of  Don 
Gregorio  to  execute  the  commission  with  which  he 
had  been  intrusted. 

Don  Gregorio,  as  we  have  seen,  arrived  long  be- 
fore the  expiration  of  the  two  months. 

Don  Acisclo  accordingly  demanded  the  letter  from 
Don  Miguel,  who  delivered  it  to  him  without  demur, 
seeing  that  the  conditions  required  by  the  marquis 
had  been  fulfilled. 

Don  Acisclo,  knowing  now  that  Dofla  Luz  had 
inherited  an  immense  fortune  and  divining  without 
difficulty  that  the  letter  had  some  connection  with 
this  fortune,  far  from  regarding  it  with  contempt,  as 
he  had  done  before,  regarded  it  as  being  highly  im- 
portant, and  lost  no  time  in  delivering  it  to  the  per- 
son to  whom  it  was  addressed. 

Although  the  space  of  time  during  which  the  let- 
ter remained  in  Don  Acisclo's  hands  before  passing 
into  those  of  DoQa  Luz  was  very  short,  it  was  more 
than  sufficient  for  the  ex-steward  to  form  a  pleasing 
hypothesis  in  his  own  mind  regarding  the  nature  of 
its  contents. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.       271 

Although  Dona  Luz  at  the  time  of  her  father's 
death  was  very  young,  she  was  yet  old  enough  for  the 
marquis  to  have  perceived  that  she  was  of  a  proud  dis- 
position, and,  as  he  knew  also  that  she  would  be  ex- 
tremely poor,  he  must  have  regarded  it  as  probable 
that  she  would  never  marry.  How,  then,  was  Dofla 
Luz  going  to  manage  with  so  many  millions  in  her 
possession,  unless  she  had  at  her  side  a  man  of  expe- 
rience and  understanding,  and  one  whom  she  could 
trust?  And  who,  in  the  eyes  of  the  marquis,  could 
this  man  be  other  than  Don  Acisclo  himself,  who  had 
managed  the  estate  with  so  much  ability  and  zeal? 
Don  Acisclo,  then,  took  it  for  granted  that  the  pur- 
port of  the  letter  was  to  recommend  Dofla  Luz,  in  the 
strongest  terms,  to  make  Don  Acisclo  her  steward. 

Don  Acisclo  had  already  learned  from  Don  Grego- 
rio  that  the  fortune  of  Dofla  Luz  was  invested  in  for- 
eign bonds,  gaining  at  the  utmost  an  interest  of  six 
or  seven  per  cent  per  annum.  As  a  good  Spaniard 
and  a  good  Catholic  it  grieved  him  to  see  foreigners 
— heretics  or  Jews  to  a  certainty  —  exploiting  this 
magnificent  fortune.  How  much  better  could  this 
money  be  employed  in  Spain,  and  especially  in  Villa- 
f ria  and  its  surroundings !  It  was  indispensable  that 
this  money  should  be  transferred  to  Spain.  Don 
Acisclo,  in  accordance  with  his  principle  of  further- 
ing his  own  and  his  master's  interests  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  was  already  forming  plans  for  the  invest- 
18 


272  DoSfA  Luz. 

ment  of  the  inheritance.  Instead  of  six  or  Beven  per 
cent,  he  would  make  Dofia  Luz  gain  nine  or  ten  per 
cent  interest  on  her  money — a  clear  gain  of  three  per 
cent.  But  as  he  would  find  a  means  of  placing  the 
money  so  that  it  should  gain  an  interest  of  twelve  or 
even  fifteen  per  cent  in  good  mortgages  or  bonds,  or 
other  ways  compatible  with  security,  remembering  the 
saying,  "  Through  care  the  vineyard  prospers,"  Don 
Acisclo  saw  himself  already  converted  into  something 
like  the  manager  of  a  mortgage  bank  of  ingenious 
mechanism,  a  sort  of  suction  pump,  wherewith  to 
draw  into  his  own  possession  all  the  lands  and  dollars 
of  the  province,  causing  Doila  Luz  to  gain  by  the  op- 
eration much  more  than  her  money  had  before  been 
gaining. 

Don  Jaime  was  not  avaricious ;  his  attention  was 
given  to  his  ambitious  projects  and  to  politics,  not  to 
money  making.  Money  was  a  matter  of  little  im- 
portance to  him,  as  was  evident  from  his  having  mar- 
ried Dofia  Luz,  who  was  poor ;  and  no  doubt  he  would 
think  it  altogether  reasonable  that  Don  Acisclo  should 
manage  the  millions  of  Dofia  Luz  and  employ  them 
in  furthering  the  happiness  of  Villafria  by  promoting 
its  manufacturing  and  agricultural  interests. 

EevOlving  in  his  mind  these  pleasant  thoughts, 
Don  Acisclo  reached  the  abode  of  Dofia  Luz,  entered 
her  apartment,  and,  as  he  had  hoped  to  do,  found  her 
alone. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.  273 

After  congratulating  her  on  the  unexpected  and 
surprising  manner  in  which  she  had  been  favored  by 
Heaven,  he  proceeded  to  inform  her  of  the  trust  that 
had  been  committed  to  him,  and  the  solemn  condi- 
tions under  which  it  had  been  given. 

"Where  is  my  father's  letter,"  said  Dofia  Luz, 
with  visible  emotion. 

Don  Acisclo  handed  her  the  letter.  She  broke 
the  seal,  took  the  letter  from  the  envelope,  and  in 
silence  began  to  read  it.  Before  she  had  read  it  half- 
way through  Dofia  Luz,  who  had  been  seated  when 
she  began  to  read,  rose  to  her  feet,  showing  signs  of 
agitation. 

Don  Acisclo,  who  had  not  removed  his  eyes  from 
her,  was  disquieted  on  seeing  this,  and  said  to  himself : 

"  The  deuce !  That  marquis  had  the  knack  of 
blundering.  What  if  he  should  have  managed  mat- 
ters so  that  the  inheritance  shall  melt  away  like  salt  in 
water?  What  if  he  should  have  charged  his  daughter 
to  transfer  the  money  to  some  one  else  ?  " 

While  Don  Acisclo  was  making  these  reflections, 
Dofia  Luz,  interrupting  her  reading  for  a  moment, 
was  reflecting  also. 

At  last  a  smile  curved  her  lips  gently.  Don  Acis- 
clo took  this  as  a  good  omen. 

Dofia  Luz  resumed  her  reading.  The  smile  be- 
came more  and  more  pronounced  as  she  read.  At 
last  it  changed  to  a  somewhat  sarcastic  laugh. 


274  DONA  LUZ. 

"  This  is  curious,"  thought  Don  Acisclo.  "  What 
sort  of  witticisms  can  her  papa  be  indulging  in  at  this 
late  date,  more  than  a  dozen  years  after  his  death,  to 
make  her  laugh  at  so  unseasonable  a  moment  ?  " 

Dofla  Luz  had  by  this  time  finished  reading  her 
letter.  She  reflected  for  an  instant  in  silence — a  si- 
lence which  Don  Acisclo  did  not  venture  to  inter- 
rupt, and  then  began  to  laugh  again,  this  time  a  little 
wildly. 

As  Dofla  Luz  was  sedateness  itself,  Don  Acisclo 
was  confounded  by  this  unaccustomed  merriment. 
There  was  an  instant  during  which  the  thought 
crossed  his  mind  that  perhaps  Dofla  Luz  was  laugh- 
ing because  her  father  had  recommended  her  to  make 
him,  Don  Acisclo,  her  steward.  This  thought  was 
displeasing,  and  Don  Acisclo  frowned. 

Dona  Luz,  however,  far  from  making  an  effort  to 
restrain  her  unseemly  gayety,  laughed  louder  and 
louder  every  moment. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  asked  Don  Acisclo. 
"  What  is  there  so  amusing  in  your  letter  as  to 
make  you  laugh  in  this  way  ?  " 

Dofla  Luz,  instead  of  answering,  laughed  still 
more  violently  than  before. 

Her  laughter  had  assumed  an  alarming  character. 
It  was  plain  that  it  was  independent  of  her  will — 
nervous — insane. 

She  had  put  the  letter  in  her  bosom.    The  letter 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LETTER.  275 

— something  she  had  read  in  it,  or  inferred  from  it — 
was  the  cause  of  her  laughter. 

Don  Acisclo,  seeing  that  her  laughter  still  con- 
tinued, at  last  became  alarmed.  The  countenance  of 
Dona  Luz  was  distorted.  She  was  seized  by  a  severe 
hysterical  attack.  Sobs  mingled  with  her  laughter, 
and  finally  she  fell  to  the  floor  in  violent  convul- 
sions. 

Don  Acisclo  rang  the  bell  and  called  loudly  for 
assistance.  Don  Gregorio,  J  nana,  Toraas,  and  several 
of  the  other  servants,  hurried  to  the  room. 

They  were  terrified  at  the  spectacle  that  met  their 
eyes.  The  convulsions  continued.  Juana  sent  for 
Don  Anselmo,  the  doctor. 

The  latter,  availing  himself  of  the  resources  of  his 
art,  and  seconded  by  the  efforts  of  nature,  succeeded 
after  a  time  in  quieting  Dofia  Luz,  who  remained, 
however,  in  a  state  of  great  prostration. 

Neither  Don  Acisclo  nor  any  of  those  present 
could  succeed  in  discovering  the  cause  of  this  sudden 
attack,  so  unaccountable  in  a  person  of  the  healthy 
and  vigorous  constitution  of  the  Marchioness  of  Vil- 
lafria. 

Dofia  Manolita  came  to  see  the  patient,  but  Doila 
Luz  was  equally  uncommunicative  with  her. 


276  i>o^A  Luz. 


CONCLUSION. 

Four  months  had  passed  since  the  day  on  which 
the  hysterical  attack  described  in  our  last  chapter 
had  taken  place.  During  this  time  many  strange 
things  had  happened  for  which  no  one  in  Villafria 
could  find  a  satisfactory  explanation. 

On  the  day  following  the  attack  Don  Jaime,  to 
whom  we  shall  henceforth  give  his  title  of  marquis, 
for  such  he  now  was,  arrived  in  Villafria. 

The  marquis  accepted  and  duly  took  possession  of 
the  magnificent  inheritance  of  DoGa  Luz.  Don  Gre- 
gorio  immediately  afterward  returned  to  Madrid. 

All  this  was  perfectly  natural.  What  was  not 
natural — since  it  was  in  direct  opposition  to  pre- 
viously arranged  and  publicly  announced  plans — was 
that  the  marquis,  instead  of  taking  Dofla  Luz  back 
with  him  to  Madrid,  should  return  thither  alone, 
after  a  few  days'  stay  in  the  town,  leaving  Dofla  Luz 
in  a  delicate  state  of  health. 

Those  who  saw  the  marquis  at  the  time  of  his  de- 
parture declared  that  his  face  wore  a  gloomy  expres- 
sion and  that  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  devil  of  a  humor. 

Ever  since  the  departure  of  the  marquis  Dofla 
Luz  had  remained  shut  up  in  her  own  room.  Not 
even  to  go  to  church  did  she  leave  the  house.  She 
was  either  really  ill  or  feigned  illness. 


CONCLUSION.  277 

In  this  way,  as  I  have  said,  four  months  passed. 
There  were  no  longer  any  daily  reunions. 

Dofla  Luz  saw  no  one  with  the  exception  of  Don 
Anselmo  whom,  however,  she  never  consulted,  even  in 
his  capacity  of  physician,  and  Dofla  Manolita,  with 
whom  she  shunned  all  conversation  regarding  her 
husband,  her  inheritance,  or  the  illness  that  had  so 
suddenly  seized  her. 

The  disposition  of  Dofla  Luz  had  changed  greatly, 
apparently. 

She  was  now  always  melancholy  and  taciturn. 

Dofla  Manolita  observed,  when  she  visited  her, 
that  her  eyes  looked  tired  and  red,  as  if  with  weep- 
ing. At  times  Dofla  Luz  was  unable  to  restrain  her 
tears  and  would  let  them  flow  freely  in  Dofla  Mano- 
lita's  presence. 

For  some  time  the  sadness  of  Dofla  Luz  had  been 
of  a  gloomy,  deep-seated,  and  bitter  character.  Her 
dearest  friend  had  not  ventured  either  to  put  the 
slightest  question  to  her  or  to  complain  of  her  reti- 
cence. 

At  the  period  at  which  our  story  has  now  arrived, 
however,  the  sadness  of  Dofla  Luz  had  begun  to  be 
visibily  modified.  It  had  become  more  gentle  and 
communicative. 

Dofla  Luz  was  not  satisfied  with  seeing  her  friend 
only  when  Dofla  Manolita  came  to  visit  her  of  her 
own  accord,  but  often  sent  for  her. 


278  DOSfA  LUZ. 

She  wept  and  sighed  more  than  ever,  but  she  was 
less  gloomy.  At  times  a  tender  smile  would  break 
through  her  tears,  like  the  sun  breaking  through  the 
clouds. 

One  morning,  finally,  Dofia  Luz  wrote  the  follow- 
ing note  to  Dofia  Manolita : 

"  My  dear  friexd  :  I  can  remain  silent  no 
longer.  My  misery  is  stifling  me,  killing  me,  and  I 
desire  to  live.  I  am  very  unhappy,  but  there  is  a  hope 
that  smiles  upon  me.  I  wish  to  live  and  I  fear  that 
this  hidden  grief  will  kill  me.  It  is  necessary  that  I 
should  confide  it  to  you,  that  I  should  open  my  heart 
to  you,  that  your  pity  and  your  affection  should  save 
me.    Come  to  me  at  once. 

"  Your  loving  Luz." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  a  very  few  moments  after 
the  receipt  of  this  letter  Dofla  Manolita  was  with  Dofia 
Luz,  who,  throwing  herself  into  the  arms  of  her  friend, 
kissed  her  with  tears  of  tender  emotion,  calling  her 
her  only  consolation. 

"  You  shall  know  all,"  said  Dofia  Luz.  "  I  should 
die  if  I  did  not  relieve  my  heart  by  telling  it  to  you. 
You  love  me,  and  you  are  discreet.  Will  you  promise 
me  to  reveal  to  no  one  what  I  am  now  about  to  con- 
fide to  you  ?  " 

"  I  promise,"  answered  the  doctor's  daughter. 


CONCLUSION.  279 

"  Not  even  to  Pepe  Giieto,  do  you  understand  ? 
Not  even  to  Pepe  Giieto  ?  " 

"  Not  even  to  Pepe  Giieto." 

"  Well,  then,"  exclaimed  Dofia  Luz,  in  a  low  voice, 
but  with  extraordinary  vehemence,  "  the  cause  of  my 
unhappiness  is  that  a  fortnight  after  my  marriage  I 
discovered  that  the  man  whom  I  thought  so  noble,  so 
generous,  so  ardently  in  love  with  me,  so  worthy  in 
all  respects  of  my  love,  on  whom  I  bestowed  my 
heart  and  hand,  on  whom  I  had  centered  all  my 
affections,  is  a  heartless  wretch." 

"  Are  you  mad,  Luz  ?  What  reasons  can  you  have 
for  saying  such  dreadful  words  ?  " 

"  You  ask  my  reasons  ?  My  father,  without  in- 
tending to  do  so,  has  revealed  everything  to  me.  It 
was,  indeed,  a  notable  excess  of  precaution  that  he 
took ! " 

And  Dofla  Luz  began  to  laugh  with  the  same 
nervous  laughter  which  had  characterized  her  hysteri- 
cal attack. 

"  Come,  come,  my  life,  control  yourself.  Be  calm 
and  go  on  with  your  story,"  said  Dofia  Mano- 
lita. 

Dona  Luz,  when  she  had  succeeded  in  regaining 
her  composure,  continued : 

"  Fearing,  should  the  Countess  de  Fajalauza  make 
me  her  heiress,  lest  Don  Gregorio  might  fail  to  fulfill 
his  trust,  my  father,  who  all  his  life  had  been  excess- 


280  DOSfA  LUZ. 

ively  careless,  on  this  occasion  erred  on  the  side  of 
prudence.  Influenced  partly,  it  may  be,  by  vanity,  he 
confided  the  story  of  his  relations  with  the  countess 
to  an  old  friend  of  his  to  whom  he  gave,  at  the  same 
time,  certain  papers,  rendering  compulsory  on  the  part 
of  Don  Gregorio,  the  faithful  fulfillment  of  his  trust 
should  he  show  himself  negligent  in  this  respect. 
My  father  charged  his  friend  to  reveal  the  secret  con- 
fided to  him  to  no  one,  unless  it  should  be  necessary 
to  do  so  for  the  purpose  mentioned.  To  provide 
against  the  contingency  of  the  death  of  my  father's 
friend  taking  place  before  that  of  the  countess  this 
friend  was  authorized  by  my  father  to  confide  the 
secret  to  his  son,  and  to  transmit  to  him  his  trust. 
This  friend  was  called  Don  Diego  Pimentel.  His 
son  is  my  husband,  Don  Jamie.  For  many  years 
past  he  has  known  that  I  might  one  day  become 
wealthy,  but  it  was  not  enough  for  him  to  know  thaA 
I  might  become  so,  he  needed  to  be  certain  of  it  to 
fall  in  love  with  me.  Without  this  certainty  I  should 
never  have  *  pierced  his  heart  with  Cupid's  arrow.' 
Do  you  remember  when  you  told  me  that  I  had 
pierced  his  heart  with  Cupid's  arrow?  You  know 
now  the  golden  arrow  Cupid  used  to  work  this  won- 
der. Don  Jaime  had  no  need  to  see  me  in  order  to 
feel  this  arrow  in  his  heart ;  he  carried  it  in  his  breast 
when  he  came  from  Madrid  under  pretense  of  visit- 
ing the  electors.     He  knew  then  that  the  count  was 


CONCLUSION.  281 

dead  and  that  the  countess  was  dying.  While  the 
count  lived,  while  there  was  a  possibility  of  the  count- 
ess dying  before  the  count,  Don  Jaime  took  very  good 
care  not  to  fall  in  love  with  me.  You  see  now  how 
the  love  poem  of  which  I  had  made  myself  the  hero- 
ine has  ended.  The  apparent  disinterestedness  which 
charmed  me  in  Don  Jaime  was  a  well-laid  plan  to  be- 
come the  possessor,  without  effort,  of  seventeen  mill- 
ions. Don  Jaime  made  his  calculations  well ;  he 
wanted  to  leave  nothing  to  chance.  He  has  vilely 
deceived  me,  for  neither  did  it  ever  enter  into  his 
mind  that  my  poor  father  could  be  so  cautious  as 
to  write  me  the  letter  delivered  to  me  by  Don  Acisclo. 
Don  Jaime  supposed — supposed,  do  I  say?  he  had 
not  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  in  the  matter — that  it 
would  be  impossible  I  should  ever  learn  that  he  was 
in  possession  of  the  secret  of  my  inheritance.  My 
love  has  now  changed  to  hatred  and  contempt.  Not 
only  do  I  despise  and  hate  him,  but  I  despise  and 
hate  the  ignoble  love  with  which  he  inspired  me. 
Why  did  I  fall  in  love  with  him  ?  Why  did  I  yield 
so  quickly  to  his  suit?  Because  I  was  vain  enough 
to  think  he  loved  me ;  because  I  fancied  I  loved  him ; 
because,  like  a  country  girl,  I  was  dazzled  by  his 
courtly  graces.  The  love  I  felt  for  him  is  worth  no 
whit  more  than  the  love  he  feigned  to  feel  for  me. 
No,  my  love  was  not  founded  in  respect  for  his  moral 
qualities,  which  I  had  no  means  of  knowing,  but  in 


282  DOJfA  LUZ. 

gratified  vanity,  in  light-minded  admiration  of  his 
exterior  qualities,  of  the  grace  and  beauty  of  his  per- 
son. I  blush  to  have  been  his;  I  blush  for  the  in- 
clination that  led  me  to  consent  to  be  his.  The  scenes 
associated  with  his  caresses  fill  me  with  shame,  as  the 
branded  criminal  is  filled  with  shame  at  sight  of  the 
spot  where  he  has  been  branded.  The  interview  that 
took  place  between  us  on  his  return  from  Madrid 
when  I  repulsed  him  when  he  would  have  embraced 
me  was  a  horrible  one.  His  infamous  excuses,  his 
cynical  mockery  when  I  tore  the  mask  from  him,  the 
contempt  with  which  he  told  me  that  I  knew  noth- 
ing of  life,  and  that  I  had  formed  a  fantastic  idea 
of  the  world,  and  the  insolence  with  which  he  final- 
ly called  me  a  mad  woman  and  a  fool  have  con- 
firmed me  in  my  purpose  of  never  living  under  the 
same  roof  with  him  again.  Now  that  this  ephem- 
eral love  is  dead,  killed  by  the  cruel  disenchantment 
I  have  suffered,  now  that  the  unworthy  passion, 
blessed  though  it  was  by  the  church  and  sanctioned 
by  the  law,  that  threw  me  into  Don  Jaime's  arms  has 
turned  to  gall,  another  love  has  revived  in  my  heart,  a 
spiritual  love  consecrated  to  a  worthy  object,  a  love 
for  which  I  foolishly  blushed,  a  love  which  I  wished 
to  stifle,  which  I  endeavored  to  hide  from  myself,  and 
which  now  reappears  in  my  heart,  immaculate  and 
pure,  although  hopeless  in  this  life.  Therefore  it  was 
that  I  desired  to  die.     What  a  difference  between  the 


CONCLUSION.  283 

two,  Manuela !  The  other — have  you  not  guessed  it 
— died  for  love  for  me.  For  this  one  I  am  a  play- 
thing, the  medium  through  which  to  acquire  wealth. 
This  one  does  not  even  know  what  love  means.  He 
scoffs  at  it.  He  called  me  a  fool  and  a  mad  woman 
because  I  regretted  that  he  did  not  love  me  with 
a  disinterested  love  when  he  married  me  ;  because 
I  told  him  that  he  had  profaned  and  debased  love, 
inspiring  me  with  love  for  him  without  sharing  that 
love.  Do  you  think  all  this  a  light  cause  for  my 
anguish  ?  " 

Doila  Manolita  was  astounded  and  deeply  grieved 
at  the  sight  of  her  friend's  anguish,  but  she  did  not 
know  what  to  say  to  her. 

She  sighed,  lavished  caresses  on  Dofla  Luz,  looked 
at  her  with  eyes  full  of  compassion,  listened  to  her  at- 
tentively and  was  silent. 

Finally  it  occurred  to  her  to  say :  "  But  why  do 
you  give  way  to  despair  in  this  way  ?  Did  you  not 
say  in  your  note  that  you  desired  to  live  ?  Did  you 
not  say  that  you  had  a  hope  ?  " 

*'  Yes,  I  have  a  hope,"  answered  Dofla  Luz.  "  This 
hope  alone  has  kept  me  from  dying." 

Thus  far  Dofia  Luz  has  kept  her  resolve. 
She  has  not  been  reunited,  and  it  is  safe  to  say 
she  will  never  again  be  reunited  to  Don  Jaime.     She 


284  DOSfA  LUZ. 

still  resides  in  Villaf ria,  where  she  leads  a  life  of  the 
utmost  seclusion. 

While  her  husband  shines  in  the  highest  circles  at 
the  capital,  she  occupies  herself  in  educating  a  hand- 
some and  intelligent  boy  with  whom  God  has  blessed 
her  and  whose  name  is  Enrique. 


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F 


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EW  EDITION  OF  ENGLISH  LYRICS. 

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